


Fool's Gold

by sgtbaarnes (Thighz)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Blood, Body Worship, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Past, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mechanic Jesse McCree, Outdoor Sex, Rimming, Slow Burn, Yakuza Hanzo Shimada, sorta - Freeform, they come back to haunt you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-09-28 15:29:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 47,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10128512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thighz/pseuds/sgtbaarnes
Summary: Not all who wander are lost.In which Hanzo is trying to find himself while he attempts to find his brother and Jesse is having a rough time keeping his life together.Somehow, they figure it out.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion fic to **[In the language of flowers](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9524000/chapters/21535877) . **
> 
> Hanzo and Jesse's story takes place before Jack comes to LA. So, warning that Gabriel is not in a safe place for a bit in this story. (Hence the Alcohol abuse warning)
> 
> You do not need to read ITLOF before this one. This is a fun thing I wanted to write because Hanzo and Jesse's relationship was very popular.
> 
>  
> 
> _Enjoy_

 

 

**One**

 

_ "It took a thousand nights, living on my own, _

_ for me to find it was all fool’s gold without you." _

  
  
  


“You’re fired.”

Jesse frowns at Ana from where he sits on the other side of her desk. Her face is set in a scowl, hair braided tight, dressed as sharply as ever. He’s been with Blackwatch Security for almost six months and hearing a  _ you’re fired _ , is not what he was expecting this morning. A raise, maybe a pat on the back for good work, but not a fucking pink slip

“Wha’ the fuck?” He snaps.

Ana sighs and casts her eyes to the ceiling, “Jesse. I love you like a son, but your past is bringing some very aggressive characters to our headquarters.”

Deadlock. She means Deadlock. 

His stomach plummets and his shoulders slump, “Hell.”

“It’s a security risk that I can not afford.” Her voice is gentle, trying to let him down as easily as possible. He doesn’t appreciate it, but fuck it all, it’s his fault. 

He sighs and tips his head back, “Where the fuck am I supposed to go?”

Ana sighs, “Ask Fareeha. Maybe she has someone who can help you out.” 

It’s not what he wants to hear, in fact, this entire day is just complete shit now. First, he has to pick a drunk off his ass Reyes up from a bar at three in the goddamn morning and tote his ass home, then he locked his keys inside the apartment, now he’s being  _ fired _ from the best job he’s ever had.

Great. Just fuckin’ great.

“Let this be a lesson though, Jesse.” Ana implores as he rises from his chair, “Stay away from the garbage this city produces. It comes back to haunt you.”

Jesse snorts and opens the office door, “No fuckin’ shit.” 

He gets little satisfaction from snapping the office door shut. Ana and Reyes had picked his stupid ass up as a teenager and cuffed him something good. Deadlock had taken most his teenage years and even ten years later, at the ripe age of 27, it’s still haunting him. 

He waves to Sombra at her little IT corner and she frowns at him as he passes to the locker room to get his stuff. He sheds his Blackwatch uniform, slipping on the pair of jeans and a plaid button up he’d packed for after his shift. The padlock for his locker gets stuffed into his blue duffle bag, as do all his other trinkets inside the locker. It’s bitter fucking sweet, but he shuts the metal door with a soft clang and heads for the elevator on their floor. 

Sombra gives him a sad wave this time, using the bulging duffel bag as evidence that he’s leaving. Probably helps that he looks and feels like a wounded animal right now. He doesn’t bother sending a look over at Ana’s office, she’s probably over it anyhow. 

It takes him a while to get home, he zones out twice on the bus, has to double back three stops to get to his complex. Reyes is standing with his forehead pressed to the mailboxes, eyes closed and wrapped up in that faded hoodie. 

“Feelin’ better sunshine?” Jesse pitches his voice a little higher and Reyes shoots him a glare that could melt the paint off of a car. 

He checks his own mail and Reyes grunts and pushes away from the boxes. Jesse watches him stumble up the stairs, noting he ain’t wearing any shoes, probably hasn’t showered either. Reyes has only been back stateside less than a year, Jesse doesn’t expect him to be better overnight.

Booze ain’t helping though.

Not that Jesse’s a saint. He plans on getting drunk as hell and there’s a bottle of whiskey in his liquor drawer with his name on it. 

He tosses the junk mail into the little trashcan by the stairs and makes his way to the third floor, where his apartment is. He bypasses his own door and heads to the end of the hall and hopes that Fareeha isn’t out doing whatever it is she does. 

He knocks twice and pauses, knocks again. 

Fareeha looks the spitting image of her mother, cept her hair is still black and sleek past her shoulders and she’s built like a brick house. Today, she’s in her gym clothes, peering up at him with a look of pity that damn near makes him recoil.

“Fuckin’ hell.” He runs a hand through his hair, “She already tell ya?”

“She texted me about an hour ago.” Fareeha steps back into the foyer and motions him inside, “Figured you’d show up here sooner or later.”

He slumps through the door, making a beeline for her couch and plopping down with all the grace of an octopus on dry land. His duffle lands at his feet and she rolls her eyes and stands in front of him, arms crossed over her chest, “Alright. Let me have it.”

He crows to the ceiling, “Naw, I’m over it.”

“Sure.” She snorts, “Which is why you’re on my couch instead of drowning yourself in booze.”

“Reyes does it all the time.” Jesse complains.

“Gabriel is an alcoholic because of  _ war _ .” Fareeha hisses, “ _ You _ made shitty mistakes as a teenager and now you’re paying for it. You want a job or what?”

Jesse’s mood rockets at the mention of another job and he tips his chin down to stare at her. Whew, she’s a spitfire like her mother, glaring down at him like he tracked mud through her apartment. 

“What kinda job?” He hedges.

“The kind where you get your hands dirty.” She replies, “Torbjorn needs a mechanic at his shop. I told him you were free.”

Jesse frowns, “Been a long while since I touched a car, Fareeha.”

She shrugs, “He’s willing to jog your memory, but he’s desperate and you’re desperate. Might as well take it.”

Not many other options. He sighs heavily, “When does he want me there?”

“If you’re taking it,” She glances over at the wall clock near her kitchen entrance, “In about 45 minutes. He wants to get your paperwork done today.”

“Damnit all.” He snaps, pushing himself up off the couch and snatching up his duffle, “What’s the place called?”

“The Forge.” She smirks, “You’re welcome.”

He waves his prosthetic hand at her, “Yea yea.”

It takes him a few minutes to toss his duffle into his apartment, but before long he’s on yet another bus to get ready for his new job. It’s not a bad deal, shit, he should count himself lucky that whoever this guy was needed Jesse ASAP.

The bus chimes above him and he exits with a jolly wave at the driver. A short walk later and he’s standing in front of a very impressive-looking building with three open bay doors. ‘The Forge’ is written in bold white letters above said doors and he can see a car in each bay and a row of four alongside the building. 

He spots a short man with a full on beard, standing on a stool, leaning over the engine of a small white car. A pink-haired woman is draining the oil on a truck, and a very big man is working on the last car, looks like tire maintenance. Jesse strolls up as casually as possible, wondering how a man with two helping hands needed another. A sinking feeling settles in his gut and he wonders if this Torbjorn had already hired one of them before Jesse got there.

Said man leans back from the car and spots him, “You McCree?” His accent is thick and if Jesse's guessing right, probably swedish.

Jesse nods, “That’ll be me sir.” And tips the rim of his cowboy hat at him.

The man holds out a greasy hand, “Name’s Torbjorn. Been wondering when you’d finally show up.”

To be fair, Jesse’s only known about it for an hour. 

“Gotta commute here, sir.” He says instead. 

Torbjorn grunts, waves to the rest of the shop, “This is my pride and joy,” He points to the other two mechanics, “That’s Zarya and he’s Mako.”

Zarya gives him a salute with a heavily tattooed arm and Jesse makes a mental note to stay on the good side of a woman who looks like she can bench press him. The other guy, Mako, white haired and face scarred, doesn’t wave, just grunts and returns to the front tire of the car he’s workin’ on.

“Got you some papervork in the office.” Torbjorn jerks a thumb towards a glass door on the right side of the shop. He hops off of the stool and Jesse follows him, eyeing the many tools and shelves lined with tires. The shop is well stocked, that’s a good sign. 

The office is a right mess, however, and Jesse winces at the piled high papers and empty coffee cups littering the desk. Torb digs around for a few moments, digging out a couple of tax papers and documents and miraculously enough, a pen. He shoves the stuff into Jesse’s hands and looks up at him through the golden magnificence of his beard and mustache. Jesse could only dream of his facial hair getting that long. 

“My only rule is keep your nose clean while you vork with me. No fucking in my office. You break it, you pay for it.”

“That’s three rules.” Jesse lifts an eyebrow.

Torb snorts and turns to walk out into the shop, “Follow them and you’ll be fine.”

 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  


The LAX airport is crawling with people from all over the world. Hanzo’s own flight landed without problems, but his body is exhausted from the 14 hour ride from Tokyo to Los Angeles. He grabs his one case from baggage claim and makes his way to the rental car booth. The woman is on the phone when he arrives, so he waits patiently, swiping through his cell and checking the weather outside. 

A few minutes later the woman greets him with a smile and an apology for the wait. He hands her his confirmation papers and ID while she looks up his reservation and retrieves his keys. 

The car is blindingly white and he hates it. It is nothing like the estate cars, the exact opposite in fact and Hanzo will stick out like a sore thumb. Perhaps that is for the best considering why he is in the states in the first place.

The car is, as he requested, fit with a GPS that gets him from the airport and through LA traffic without a hitch. His hotel is mediocre at best, a tall, beige and green building near the edge of the main center. He has no idea where Genji will be, but he’s hoping this trip will be relatively short. 

Their fathers contact insisted the younger Shimada had taken refuge here. 

Hanzo drops his suitcase onto the single bed in his glaring green room and sighs. He is in no shape to search for his brother today, despite the early hour. Sleep does not come easily on a flight full of irritated passengers and  _ four  _ screaming children. Hanzo shudders at the memory and decides to take a quick shower to wash off the filth of travel. 

The hot water is tepid at best, towels scratchy and worn, the tub has mildew stains around the edges. Hanzo scowls at himself in the mirror as he dries off. A part of him wishes his father had been the one to come out here and retrieve Genji, but the other part of him knows better. It would end in a fight. It would end with Genji hating their father even more.

By the time he returns to his suitcase, his cell phone is blinking that he missed two calls, one from his father and one from his father’s contact. He sighs heavily and dials his father’s number first.

_ “You did not answer.” _ His father’s clipped japanese straightens Hanzo’s spine. He silently berates himself for acting as though the man were in front of him. 

_ “I showered, father. Airplanes are dirty.” _ Hanzo explains calmly, fingers clenching tighter around the phone. 

_ “My contact has stated that Genji noticed him. The most he gathered from his recent observations is that your brother favors an american exercise.”  _ His father sounds disgusted.  _ “Yoga or some such rot.” _

Ah. Hanzo smiles at the ceiling, that sounds like Genji.

“ _ I shall endeavor to find the studio where he practices, father.” _

His father grunts, “ _ He is a foolish child. This frivolity must end.” _

_ Frivolity. _ Hanzo thinks as they say their curt goodbyes and hang up. Hanzo never considered Genji leaving to be frivolous. Merely, a way to escape the all encompassing stress of their family ‘business’. Genji was not made to strike fear into the hearts of men. 

That was Hanzo’s burden. 

He flops onto the bed, still naked from his shower and bringing up a search engine on his phone. It takes him a few moments to narrow down the studios concentrated in the general area they assumed Genji would be. There are six studios total and he scribbles down the addresses in  _ Kanji  _ using the notepad and pen sitting on the nightstand. 

After that is done, he notices the sun is slipping past noon, making its way slowly to the ocean he knows is beyond the towering LA buildings. His window is not big, but he can still see the city for what it is. Large, reckless, american. 

He has not been to the states since he was a boy. Genji had been much younger, but no less excited. Everything in america had made the young Shimada glow, something Hanzo watched slip away over the years. Now, they were both in the same city, so close and so far apart. 

Hanzo curls up on his side and watches the city across from him. 

He falls asleep and dreams of his brother.

 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  


Working with Torb is not an easy task. 

Jesse wipes the sweat from his brow, knowing damn well that he’s getting oil and grease smeared all over his face. The car hovering above him is a new one and the owner was a high class type of man who wears clean vests and turned his nose up at the sight of Jesse sweating. 

LA is  _ hot _ . Jesse doesn’t understand how the man is wearing long sleeves in seventy degree weather with the sun glaring down. 

Also, the oil is watery sludge as it leaks down into the drain in front of him. Jesse wrinkles his nose at the state of the filter too. He glances over at Zarya, who is shaking her head in disappointment.

“You will have to explain to him.” She bellows in her thick, russian accent. 

Jesse groans, “I hate explain’ to people basic fuckin’ maintenance on a car.” He tosses the filter into their designated waste container and grabs the new one. “Always takin’ advantage o’ their shit.”

“If he can afford that baby,” Zarya points at the car, “He can afford  _ another _ one.”

Jesse snorts at that, finishing up the job and wiping his oil slick hands on a dirty towel. He lifts himself out from under the car to grab the expensive ass oil Mr. Rich man expected to feed his dying car. 

Ten minutes later he’s leaning over Torb’s front counter, hands out to try and explain why you don’t fucking wait 8 thousand miles to change your oil. 

The man just sneers at him, pays, and drives his fancy ass out of the shop with a curt ‘I won’t be doing business  _ here _ again’. 

“Good, ya fuckin’ assclown.” Jesse snaps long after the man has left.

“Getting the hang of things, I see.” Torb laughs heartily, walking past Jesse and back out into the shop. 

“Gonna git a cig, ole’ man.” Jesse shouts through the glass and Torb just throws up a five. 

Jesse snorts, five minutes his ass. 

He takes his smoke breaks on the outside of the building closest to the main road. There a few old cars sitting in the freshly mowed grass, sale signs in the window so passersby can see. Traffic is high through this part of town, too far from the center to get tourists, but it does occasionally happen. 

He blows smoke out, tapping ash onto the grass. The sounds of Zarya and Mako working wouldn’t have been soothing a few days ago. His first day was a miserable, horrific mess. Torb spent more time correcting him than getting any actual work done. When Jesse had said he was rusty, it meant he was  _ rusty _ . Door creaking, WD-40 probably won’t work on it rusty. However, he got through it. Week was almost over and he was finally able to get a car or two done without releasing a string of cuss words.

And to add a cherry to that sundae, Torb pays weekly, so he won’t starve waiting for a two week check. 

He stubs the end of his cig out when Torb bellows his name from inside the shop. 

“I’m comin’ I’m comin ya slave driver!” He shouts back, rounding the corner and ducking back into the shop. 

“Mr. Shimada here needs his rental looked at!” Torb calls.

Jesse rolls his eyes.  _ Rentals.  _

He comes to a halt at the car itself, a white monstrosity that looked every inch a rental. He glances at Torb to acknowledge the job and has to do a double take. 

The man standing next to Torb is unlike anyone Jesse’s ever seen. Not that Jesse’s never seen a Japanese man before, but not one this...this….

Shimada is shorter than Jesse by almost a foot, hair long on the top and shorn down to his neck, dressed in a simple pair of black pants and a button down silver shirt. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, probably to escape the sudden heatwave, revealing a gorgeous blue dragon tattoo that Jesse hopes leads further up those bulging arms. 

He jerks his gaze away when he hears Zarya attempt at a discreet cough because holy fucking  _ hell _ he was staring at a complete stranger like he wanted to  _ eat _ him. 

“Uh..” He swallows thickly, “What seems ta be tha problem?” 

“I attempted to start her this morning and she sputtered, then died.” Shimada provides, his accent pronounced, his english flawless, and the baritone sends a shiver down Jesse’s spine. “I had an employee of my hotel ‘give her a jump’.” Jesse glances up just in time to see the man frown as he says the words. 

“Probably jus’ a bad battery.” Jesse hums, popping the hood, “I’ll give ‘er a test.” 

“Ve will have to contact your rental company.” Torb sighs heavily, “Come vith me.”

Jesse glances up under the brim of his hat as he watches Shimada follow Torb to the office. The man walked with a straight back and an air of arrogance that made the lust stir in his gut. He pushes away from the car to grab the battery tester from its bench.

“Hungry, McCree?” Zarya laughs from her post by a large green truck. 

He flips her the bird, “Fuck off.”

Mako grunts out a laugh from the other end of the shop and Jesse flushes as he gets to work testing the battery. He had not meant to stare, honest, but fuck, Shimada was a fine looking specimen. Perfectly trimmed beard, wise brown eyes, a luscious tilt to his mouth. His own mouth waters at the memory of the man as he clamps the tester to the correct posts. 

A few seconds later and the screen flashes ‘Bad Battery’ at him. Easy enough fix, but he runs a quick diagnostic with their handheld to make sure the car didn’t send any more codes. No other issues pop up and with a heavy sigh, he realizes he has to tell the man it’ll take him ten minutes tops to fix the battery and send him on his way.

No use in getting a phone number either. ‘My hotel’, meant the man was either a businessman on a trip or a simple pass-through tourist. 

Fuck his luck this week.

He makes his way to the office, greasy hand pulling the door open and poking his head inside, “It’s the battery, Mr. Shimada. Wan’ me to fix ‘er up?” 

Shimada glances up from the desk where Torb his talking heatedly on the landline. His eyes scan Jesse from head to toe and his nose wrinkles.

Oof. Way to let a guy down.

He takes a shot to his pride but grins through it. 

Torb hangs up the phone with a growl, “Hate dealing with those companies.” 

“My apologies.” Shimada frowns, “You were the closest shop I could find.”

Torb waves a hand, “Not your fault. Issue is they von’t send someone to pay ‘till tomorrvow.”

That causes a flash of distress to cross the man’s face, but he sighs, “I suppose it can not be helped.” 

“I’ll fix ‘er up right.” Jesse winks at him.

Shimada makes that wrinkled face again and Jesse whimpers inside.  _ Gimmie a bone, sweetheart. _ He thinks with a sigh. 

“You familiar with our bus system?” Torb asks.

Shimada shakes his head, “I am afraid not. I have only been here a few days. Jet lag kept me in my hotel.”

“McCree here knows it. He can get you back to your hotel for the night.”

Jesse brightens at that, “Sure thing, Torb.” He glances over at Shimada, “If yer willin’ to put up with my company.”

Shimada  _ finally _ graces him with a half smile, “I am sure your company is satisfactory.” 

_ You bet. _

He grins instead, “I’ll go get ‘er settled and then we can head out.” 

Shimada nods and makes his way to the waiting area, where he takes a seat and pulls out his phone. 

Jesse heads back into the shop with a victorious grin on his face.

Zarya lets out a hearty laugh. 

 

-0-0-0-0-0-

 

When one travels, you must always expect the worst and hope for the best. 

Hanzo spent his first two days in America fighting his sleep schedule. Gone was his carefully managed routine of being up and ready for the day before the sun. The startling time difference left him groggy, irritable and confused when he refused to sleep when the sun slept. It took an entire day to force his body clock back into some semblance of routine, but he did it. 

His first mission was to find the studios closest to his hotel and work outward. The first one was overly friendly, smiles bright and offering him a free lesson. He declined, of course, and asked after Genji, with no success. 

The next two are the same, no sign of any japanese man taking yoga classes. They recommend two of the other remaining three studios for him to check out. He does not have a recent picture of his brother, so he relies on name alone. The last time he had seen Genji was seven months ago, shouting furiously at their father and threatening to never come back. 

Hanzo had tried to stop him, nearly begged him not to go, but Genji was raw with anger. He snapped at Hanzo the same way he yelled at their father and Hanzo let him leave. 

Genji had been gone the next morning.

Hanzo sighs heavily and stops at a small coffee shop to grab a bite to eat. The shop is bustling with people, the chatter level high and the smell heavenly. He has not had coffee in some time and will probably prefer it to the american version of tea. The man behind the register is friendly, helpful with the menu options and Hanzo walks away with his first iced coffee beverage. 

He sips it while he walks, danish in his tattooed hand. The city of LA is both beautiful and disgusting. Some streets are lined with carefully planted trees, neat trash receptacles, and beautiful shop fronts, while others were less appealing to the eye. He supposes Hanamura must look like this to strangers as well. 

The fourth studio gives him some form of hope, mentioning that a ‘Genji’ had swung in to borrow a few mats from them three weeks prior. They do not, however, remember what studio he was from. Only the manger, who was not there of course, knew. 

He decides to double back to his hotel for the day and try again in the morning. 

It does not happen.

He tries three times to start the rental, unsuccessfully before an employee offers jumper cables to get him to the nearest shop. She is even kind enough to allow him to follow her to said shop to make sure he arrived without stalling. 

The shop is not large, nor is it small. ‘The Forge’ is written along the top and all of the bay doors are open, but only one stall is empty. He parks his car in front of it and a woman with a shock of pink hair walks over as he rolls his window down.

“Service?” She asks.

He shakes his head, “She would not start.”

The woman nods, “Ah. Got it. Pull in, I will fetch Torbjorn.”

The name startles Hanzo, but he obeys, following her hand signals to park the car properly over the ramps. A small man meets him at the front of his vehicle once Hanzo has stepped out into the shop.

It smells of sweat and hot asphalt, with diesel and oil chasing its tail. He is not used to the scent, so he feels his nose scrunch up in response. He speaks to the owner for only a moment before the man is bellowing out a sharp ‘JESSE’ that echoes through the shop.

“I’m comin’ I’m comin’ ya slave driver!” Is the response before a very tall man rounds the corner of the office section of the shop. 

This ‘Jesse’ is not at all what he is expecting. His barrel-chest is covered by an oil-stained red shirt, sun soaked brown hair tied back in a makeshift bun, and a  _ cowboy _ hat atop his head. As he gets closer, Hanzo spots boots under worn blue jeans, a prosthetic arm, and a very unkempt beard. 

Hanzo has never in his life  _ wanted _ beard burn between his thighs. 

The man himself stares just a bit too long at Hanzo, who fights down the urge to preen under the attention. The pink-haired woman coughs and the moment is broken, leaving Hanzo confused and aroused. 

He watches Jesse as he leans over his rental, talking about a bad battery. Hanzo is glad for the simple fix, but as he leaves the ruggedly handsome man behind to follow the shop's owner, he knows the rental company will not make it easy. 

He is not wrong.

Hanzo glances up from his cellphone to watch Jesse change the battery on his car. The man is a hard worker, as far as he can tell, and he never falters from his task. He can hear them exchanging banter beyond the glass, but can not make out the words. 

He has never been attracted to a man before. His homelife left little time for Hanzo  _ be _ attracted to anyone. 

He finds it is freeing to openly  _ want _ another human being without the harsh scrutiny of his father's gaze on him. 

Hanzo wonders if Genji felt this kind of freedom when he left.

He shakes the thought away and continues to watch Jesse heave the old battery out and replace it with a new one. It takes a grand total of fifteen minutes and then the car is parked in the lot. Jesse meets him inside the shop.

“Gonna wash my hands real quick, doll.” He winks and heads for the bathroom. 

Hanzo blinks at the name, tipping himself to the side to watch the man’s hulking form block the sink from view. Jesse’s back stretches the shirt and a little bit of flesh is revealed at his lower back, sweat beading along the tanned skin.

Hanzo jerks back up when Jesse turns around to dry his hands.

“They got busses in Japan?” Jesse asks as he exits the bathroom. The man reaches over the counter, hand digging around for a bit before a wallet and set of keys emerge with it. 

“Of course.” Hanzo snorts.

He follows Jesse out of the shop and to the sidewalk, where they stroll in silence. The bus stop is only a few short minutes away. 

“Where’s yer hotel?” Jesse asks, pulling a cellphone out of his back pocket with his prosthetic hand. The screen is cracked in the top left corner and there’s the picture of a skull on the home screen. It is all very….. _ Jesse _ of him, for all of the hour Hanzo has known him. 

Hanzo gives him the address and Jesse whistles for a bit before pulling up what looked to be a bus schedule. 

“Hey, you ain’t far from my apartment.” Jesse grins, “Bout two miles south o’ it in fact.” He closes the screen and shoves it into his pocket, “Easy peasy, sweetie.”

Hanzo flushes under the name, unused to such  _ american  _ affection. 

They wait at the stop for twenty minutes, exchanging small talk before the bus finally arrives. Jesse leads him to a set of seats near the back, where they sit and wait for the other passengers to board or disembark. 

Jesse tips his hat back, “What brings ya to LA, Mr. Shimada?”

“I am looking for my brother.” Hanzo mutters, “My father sent me to find him.”

Jesse hums beside him, “He want to be found?”

“I am unsure.” Hanzo admits, “But I have to try.” He doesn’t say more, but he wants to. He wants to scream at how angry he is at his father for making him come. Genji  _ obviously _ does not want to be found. 

But it is Hanzo’s job. His  _ job _ to keep their family together. 

He straightens his shoulders, realizing that he began to slump in defeat, “He has been gone long enough.” 

The words are his father’s. 

“Reckon that’s kinda his choice.” Jesse’s lovely mouth forms into a frown. Hanzo does not bother explaining his family's expectations to him. It would do no good and Hanzo does not want to discuss his _family_ _issues_ with Jesse.

The bus ride is nearly an hour long, but worth it. Hanzo has never enjoyed being stranded without a vehicle more than he has today. Jesse walks him to the door of the hotel, boots loud across the concrete, much like the rest of him. Bright red shirt, cowboy hat and all. 

Hanzo does not want him to go. Knows that he is perfectly capable of using the app Jesse provided him with to navigate the bus system and return to the shop. 

As Jesse turns to leave he hears himself say, “Would you mind meeting me here in the morning?”

Jesse freezes, turning slowly, face exactly as Hanzo was expecting. Incredulous and curious. He gives Jesse a hesitant smile, “I do not wish to get lost.”

They are both well aware that Hanzo can do this on his own. 

A slow, toothy grin breaks across Jesse’s handsome face and Hanzo’s stomach flutters in excitement. “Can’t have that now, can we, darlin’?” 

Then, with a tip of his ridiculous hat, and a “7 am sharp, Mr. Shimada.” Jesse makes his way back to the bus stop. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is wondering, the lyrics belong to '1000 Nights' By Frenship. 
> 
> This entire story was built on that song. 
> 
> I am very excited to give this to ya'll. Get ready for an amazing ride! Thank you for reading!


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the late update. Life has been a cruel mistress.
> 
> I've had a lot of questions about Jesse's past with Deadlock and Blackwatch. It will all be explained as the story progresses, so just saddle up for the ride. 
> 
> I should note that this is a slow burn _romance_ but I never said it would be slow burn sexy times. So. As a present to myself for a hard, horrible two weeks, I give you a chapter with a little bit of porn. 
> 
> Warnings for this chapter:  
> Accidental voyeurism  
> Semi-pubic sexy times
> 
> _Enjoy_

**Two**   
  


 

_ The laughter is sickening - it echoes around Jesse and bounces off of the empty walls. A soft crunch and a scream follow the laughter and he winces hard, biting into his cigar. He’s standing guard tonight, thank fucking god, back against the hallway wall, hat tipped low over his face. His cigar is almost out, butt burning bright in the dim lighting of whatever shithole they’ve curled up in.  _

_ Like cowards  _

_ “You will tell us where you hid it.” A snarl comes from the room behind him and Jesse glances up, ears perked to the sound.  _

_ “I don’t know anything!” A man shouts back, “I didn’t even deal with him!” _

_ Another crunch and a bellow of pain.  _

_ “We move the product in this city kid, you tell us where he went and where he made you hide the crystal, and we’ll let you go.” _

_ No they won’t. _

_ Jesse closes his eyes as the guy begs and pleads, tries to tell them he doesn’t know anything. It’s a lie. Jesse was the scout who caught him dealing with their little ‘traitor’.  _

_ He squishes the butt out into the wall and it drops to the floor.  _

_ “You don’t want me to get out the big guns, kid.” A second voice, this one female, sighs.  _

_ “I ain’t afraid of you.” The man sounds too self-assured, too cocky. _

_ Mistake.  _

_ He’s about to take a short walk when the sound of sirens sends his blood racing.  _

_ “Fuck.” He curses, spurs clanking as he pushes away from the wall and raps on the door, “Cops!” _

_ “Damn it!” The woman snarls. _

_ “What do we do, leave him?” The other guy snorts. _

_ “No.” The woman pulls the door open and Jesse watches her dark hair sway as she walks into the hall, “Let McCree take out the garbage. I’ll find the traitor on my own.”  _

_ He watches her black-clothed figure strut down the hall, pale arms swinging angrily at her sides. A hand claps him on the back and he turns to look up at the other man, bleach blonde hair curly around his dark features, “You heard the lady, McCree.” _

_ His stomach curls with nausea.  _

_ He walks into the room and damn near recoils at the scent and sight of the blood. The man is seated in an old school desk, hands tied to the top and missing four out of ten fingers. His face is bruised to hell and back.  _

_ The man sneers, “You ‘McCree’?” _

_ Jesse tips his hat, smile curling at the corner of his mouth, “That’ll be me, kind sir.” _

_ He snorts, tossing his shaved head, “I ain’t afraid of any of you. I won’t tell you jack shit and nothing  _ **_you_ ** _ can do to change that.” _

_ “Oh. I ain’t here ta torture ya, big man.” Jesse fingers the sixgun in the holster on his belt, knowing she’s shiny and clean and ready.  _

_ That makes the man’s face fall, bruises giving way to fear, “Wait...wha-.” _

_ “You heard the lady.” Jesse chuckles, pulling her out of the holster and leveling the barrel at the guys head, “I’m here to take out the garbage.” _

**_BANG._ **

 

Jesse sits up fast, chest heaving and hair wild around his sweating face. His bedroom is dark, cool, the soft pink of the sunrise bleeding through his curtains. The dark is a comfort, but only barely. He presses a hand to his forehead and slumps over into the sheets, breathing still labored from the dream. 

It takes a few minutes, but he’s soon sliding his hand down his face and sitting back up. His cell is charging on the night stand and he’s happy to see no missed drunk dials from Reyes. He climbs out of bed and hits the shower, scrambles himself a few eggs and stares blearily at the red numbers on his coffee pot. Still an hour to go before work. 

Gives him plenty of time to meet Shimada at the hotel. 

He grins to himself as he eats his eggs standing up, back against the counter. Damn shame the man’s only in town for a short period, otherwise, Jesse’d love to take that for a ride. 

He polishes off the eggs and sets the plate in the sink before heading out. 

Fareeha is at the mailbox when he gets to the bottom of the stairs. Her dark blue uniform is impeccable, as always, but it gives away no emblem. No way of identifying where she works or what she does. 

“Mornin’.” He grins. 

She glances up from her mail, “You are up extraordinarily early.” She eyes him from head to foot, probably wrinkling her inner fashion sense at his plaid shirt and blue jeans. “How unusual.” 

“Gotta escort a customer back to the shop this mornin’.” Jesse shrugs, “Can’t keep ‘im waiting.” 

“How  _ is _ Torb treating you?” She lifts a small bag at her feet over her shoulder and slips the mail inside.

“Good. Good.” Jesse mutters, “Not the most glamorous of jobs, though.” 

Her smile gives way to pity and he hates it, “I am sorry, Jesse. So is mama.” 

He slumps his shoulders, “Yea, well, thought I had somethin’ good and I didn’.” Like most everything else in his life these days. He feels a shiver of foreboding as the words come out. 

She wraps her fingers around his left bicep and squeezes, “We are our choices, Jesse. Every one we make affects our future in some way.” 

He shrugs her off, “Doesn’t mean I don’ deserve a second chance.” The glass rattles as he pushes out to the street. He doesn’t look back at her, just continues his journey to the bus stop. 

Shimada is standing at his own stop when he arrives, hair tied back without a strand out of place, and dressed it a dark blue button up and cream slacks. 

He’s damn gorgeous.

Jesse waves to him from inside the bus and the asian man nods before getting in the board line. He isn’t a mite ashamed that he leaves his duffle bag in the seat next to him so when Shimada gets there, he takes his seat with a soft, ‘thank you’. 

He smells like hot tea and hotel soap. It warms in the pit of his stomach.

“Sleep well?” Jesse asks.

Shimada nods, “Well enough. It is not home, but it will have to do for now.”

“I take it ya don’t leave home much?”

“There was never a need.” Shimada shrugs, “I am content where I am in my life.” 

He doesn’t sound too sure about that and Jesse can tell because the man’s face is on its way to scrunched. Shimada keeps casting glances to the many shops lining the street and eyeing the giggling toddlers giving their mother a hard time in the front. It’s like he’s lookin at a whole new world.

“Your city is very lively.” Shimada mutters.

Jesse chuckles, “Not to those of us who live here.”

Shimada lets out a soft laugh, “I suppose that is with any hometown.” 

Jesse warms under the laugh, watching Shimada as he begins to fiddle with his phone. He catches a search for yoga studios and feels his eyebrows jerk up, “You into the bendy stuff?”  _ Please say yes _ . 

Shimada makes a face, “No, but apparently, my brother is.” 

“Got a lotta studios ‘round here.” Jesse whistles, “Gonna take you a while.” 

“Not at all.” Shimada glances up at him, “My father has many contacts in the states, we merely narrowed his location down.”

A warning bell goes off, “Like…..like stalking him?”

Shimada scowls, “My brother ran away. From his family, from his home, we only wish to find him.”

It feels like an echo of their conversation the day before, but Shimada looks tense, antsy. Almost as if he’s doing this for a reason besides what he’s sayin’. 

The bus dings at their stop and they exit together. Shimada is silent as he browses his phone while they walk to the shop. Jesse isn’t too comfortable with the whole situation, some people just don’t want to be found, but hell, isn’t his family. 

When they reach the shop, Jesse spots a green car with a rental company logo on the side and elbows Shimada. The man lets out a sigh of relief at the sight and parts from Jesse with a quick ‘thank you’ before entering the office area. 

Jesse stares longingly at the door, watching Shimada greet the representative with a short bow and a handshake. He could use a distraction and Shimada would be the perfect one. The shorter man is built like a warrior. Jesse’s pretty sure they could get up to all kinds of wonderful things. 

He kicks the ground with the toe of his boot and sighs, heading into the bay to greet Zarya and Mako. Both of whom are already elbow deep in their respective clients cars. He doesn’t even bother carrying a conversation, just grabs the next queued car, sitting pretty in the center and gets to work. 

It’s not as hot as it was yesterday, thank god, but it’s still a sweaty one. He wrestles around with the alternator in his current car - fingers black with grease and oil. It’s a familiar feeling, working with his hands. 

The dream is still rattling around in the back of his head, but he knows it’s a memory. He spends more time waking to the past than he cares to admit. Blackwatch had been good, healthy for him. The memories of his Deadlock days were melting away and being replaced with Ana’s stern orders and Sombra’s witty commentary. A goddamn shame it grinded to a sharp halt because his dumb ass didn’t know how to cut ties properly. 

He sighs and presses his forehead against the engine, the metal cool from disuse. Ten years he’s been running and hiding and dodging Deadlock. A few of those early years, he got yanked back into the mix only to finally be dragged out by the collar. 

Reyes had been a different man then too. 

A throat clears and he jumps, head bashing against the hood. 

“Fuckin’  _ fuck _ .” He shouts, rubbing angrily at the back of his head as he turns to his interrupter. 

Shimada is standing there, both hands out and eyes wide, “I am sorry.” He lets out in a rush, “I did not mean to startle you.”

Jesse winces as his fingers graze the forming bump, “No harm done darlin’, just lost in my own world.”

Shimada lets his hands fall, “I came to thank you for escorting me back and forth.” He tilts his head, “Thank you.” 

Jesse lets the sting of sadness settle before he answers, “Yer welcome. It was a pleasure.” Another damn shame that he won’t see this man again. Jesse’s seen a lotta beautiful people in his life, but Shimada was on a whole ‘nother level of gorgeous. “I hope ya find yer brother.” He looks down at his hand, “I’d shake but-.”

Shimada shakes his head, “It is alright. Good bye, McCree.” The keys jingle as he takes them from his pocket and Jesse watches him walk to the white rental. 

He wants to say call him back, ask for his number, ask for  _ something _ . His mouth opens to shout for the man, but nothing comes out. Shimada shuts the door of the rental with a soft click and doesn’t look back as he pulls into LA traffic. 

The words never come.

  
  


-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  


Genji never has been an early riser. 

Back home, he spent his nights out late and his mornings wasted away in his bedroom. It had been the only way to avoid his family. His father never seemed to care, which was a blessing up until it wasn’t and the suffocating control his father held became too much. 

Now, he has a reason to rise with the sun.

He rolls over in bed, arm reaching over a bare, caramel-colored shoulder to shut the alarm off. His bed mate mutters softly to wakefulness and Genji presses a kiss to the skin.

“Do we have to get up?” Genji sighs. 

Zenyatta rolls over onto his back and peers up at Genji, “We promised Jamison that we would open the studio today.” 

Genji groans and drops his forehead against Zen’s naked chest, “It’s  _ friday _ . It’s supposed to be our weekend off.”

Zenyatta laughs softly, “Dearest, we only have to teach two classes and then the weekend is ours.” He raises a hand to cup Genji’s face and his heart sings as the younger man brings him down for a kiss. It’s not the most pleasant tasting, as most early morning kisses seem to be, but Zen is warm and soft under him. 

“Promise?” Genji bites at his bottom lip and grins when Zen squirms under him.

“Have I ever broken a promise?” Zen asks. 

Genji grins, “Nope.” He gives the other man a quick peck before doing a fancy roll out of bed. His clothes are laid out on the top of the dresser, because Zen is the ultimate roommate. He grabs both sets and wiggles his eyebrows at the the man still laid out in bed. “Join me in the shower?”

Zenyatta peers at him suspiciously, “You have an alternative motive in me joining you for a shower. We do not have the time.” 

Genji winks, “You know me so well. Join me anyway, we’ll be even later if we shower separate.” He slips into their adjoining bathroom and grins in victory as he hears Zen sigh as his feet hit the floor. 

They make quick work of the shower, despite Genji pawing at Zen’s gorgeous curves. Fifteen minutes later they are both dressed in their respective workout clothes, logo for the studio etched into their t-shirts. They slip into a small smoothie shop to grave a couple of protien drinks before making their way to the studio. 

Zenyatta unlocks the doors and lets Genji inside to turn on the lights and set up for the first class. The more advanced students arrive for the morning class at six fifteen and Genji let’s Zen handle them while he tackles the morning paperwork and scheduling. Jamison left a ‘thank you’ sticky note in his horrific handwriting above the computer and Genji sighs at it in defeat. It had taken Jamie months to get that appointment and Genji could sacrifice a few hours of his vacation so his friend could get his prosthetic upgraded. 

“You are deep in thought.” Zenyatta’s bare feet are quiet as he approaches the desk, “How unusual.”

Genji sneers, “Yea yea.” He waves, “My class up yet?”

Zenyatta glances at the clock, “Not for another twenty minutes, they are on cool down.”

“Sweet.” Genji checks a few more emails and makes sure the payments for online bookings went through properly. Zenyatta brings him a bottle of water right as his moderate level students start pouring in. 

Soft laughter and gossip fill the studio as he watches them unroll their respective mats. Every greets him with excited or sleepy ‘good mornings’ and he catches Zenyatta in the back of the class, sitting on his own mat, ready for the lesson. 

An hour later he’s grinning down at a small group of his students as they explain to him that they’re almost ready for the advanced set. Zen is a silent, steady presence across the room as he talks to a recently arrived Jamie. 

“And then this strange japanese man walked in and asked for Genji.”

His head swivels around from Zen to the women in front of him. They are all still gossiping, but he’s focused on the one who spoke.

“Who?” He asks.

The red-head turns to him, “ I was at a class at the other studio down the road. Remember when you came and borrowed some mats?”

He nods slowly, dread pooling in his stomach. Was his father here? Was his father’s  _ men _ here? How did they find him? The questions race quickly through his head and he catches Zen’s eyes across the room. 

The other man straightens and excuses himself from Jamie, making his way quickly to where Genji is. 

“Well, our instructor was talking to some grumpy-looking Japanese man about your whereabouts.”

Genji swallows, “Did she tell him where I was?” He tries not to startle her with the command, but she looks worried.

“Not exactly, but she mentioned that she knew who you were.”

“Let us go, Genji.” Zenyatta breaks through the women and wraps a hand around Genji’s forearm, “Our vacation starts now.”

He doesn’t give a shit about his vacation now. It’s  _ ruined _ . His father sent men to find him, to drag him back home. He lets Zen pull him out of the studio, grabbing their respective bags and bottles along the way. 

The walk back to the apartment is a long one and he watches Zenyatta out of the corner of his eye. Zen’s face is neutral, as always, and he’s hyper focused on where they are walking. Genji knows every expression this man has. He’s been studying Zen for months and coaxing smiles and laughter out of a man who is always in a permanent state of serenity. 

He’s going to have to leave him behind.

He pulls to a halt in the middle of the sidewalk and Zen stops with him, brown eyes glancing up to meet Genji’s.

“If...if my father has sent them to get me..” His voice comes out weaker than intended.

Zenyatta’s comes out firm, “I will not let them.”

The words are a balm, but they won’t last long. Zenyatta had been there since the beginning. Ever since Genji found himself lost and carrying a raging fury from Japan to his shitty hotel by the sea. Zen was his rock. Genji  _ needed _ him. 

“Come.” Zenyatta whispers, hand slipping down his arm to weave their fingers together. He tugs once, “Come home with me, dearest.”

Genji goes.

 

-0-0-0-0-0-

 

Hanzo is not a patient man when it comes to his brother. It has been a fact of his life since they day Genji was born and he spent most of his time in the hospital demanding to see his little brother. Their mother had found it amusing and at the time, his father had been a softer man and found Hanzo’s protectiveness honorable. 

Now, he wielded Hanzo like a weapon to bring Genji in every time the younger Shimada made a mistake.

Genji was the only moving figure in Hanzo’s life. He stayed bright and alert in Hanzo’s vision as he drowned in the shadow of their father. 

“Sorry, mate. You just missed them.” The blond man in front of him does not look pleased to see Hanzo in the slightest. Golden eyes are staring down at him hard, “And I ain’t telling you how to find them either.”

Hanzo frowns, “Them?”

The australian man snorts, “You don’t see one of them without the other.”

“I am asking about Genji. His hair is probably dyed a ridiculous color. He is japanese.”

“Ya. I got ya.” The man rolls his eyes, “Statement stands. They’re on vacation, the louts.” He frowns, “Who are ya anyway?”

“My relation is not important. I am merely looking for him.”

Hanzo’s patience is running thin. He does not enjoy being talked in circles and he has a terrible feeling that this will get him nowhere. Once more he is going to have to call his father in failure.

“Well, sorry mate. Can’t help.” The blond shuts the studio door in his face and the locks snaps soon after. 

Hanzo scowls as the blinds come down and block the inside from his view.  He presses his forehead to the glass and wishes for rest. This was the last studio, his last option in a sea of what this city had to offer. And yet he is still no closer to finding his brother. 

He does not want to wait an entire weekend to come back and try again. He misses his home, his room, his solitude. The city is too noisy and too bright, nothing like the calm ponds and empty halls of his home. 

Eventually, he pushes away from the door and makes his way to the road where he parked his car. The meter is still running when he arrives and he glances around to find a place to eat before returning to his hotel for the evening. Nothing looks remotely good and he sighs heavily before climbing into the car. Perhaps he will just enjoy room service for the night. 

He drives for a short time, contemplating what excuse he will give to his father for another day of no Genji. The sun is setting fast and the GPS chirps that he is still five miles from his destination. At least traffic is not bad. 

Hanzo is halfway to his hotel when he spots a shock of green hair walking along the sidewalk to his right. He also spots the familiar outline of the cowboy hat McCree wears and another figure between them. His brakes screech to halt as Hanzo quickly tries not to hit the person at the red light. The group turns to watch the commotion and honking Hanzo caused, but he is staring over his dashboard as his brother. 

His  _ brother _ .

Genji is watching the scene with a tilted head and eyes squinting into the darkness. He looks ridiculous. His hair is bright green, his jeans are torn in two places and the shirt he’s wearing has a fuzzy depiction of a cartoon on it. 

Hanzo did not realize how much he missed him until now. 

He observes as Genji’s eyes widen at the realization of who Hanzo is. 

A car behind him honks and Hanzo has to go, so he pulls forward in traffic and takes a sharp turn down the next road, searching furiously for parking. He finds a space luckily enough and makes haste to climb from his car just as his brother, McCree and the stranger come hurrying forward.

“Hanzo!” Genji shouts, taking a running leap and nearly knocking Hanzo to the ground in a hug. 

“Wait, wait.” Jesse stumbles forward, looking confused, “ _ This _ is yer brother?” 

Hanzo nods numbly, staring at Jesse over his brother’s shoulder. The stranger with them is a short man wearing a green sweater to combat the deserts cold evening wind. His smile is soft and fathomless as he watches them from Jesse’s side. 

When Genji finally pulls away, he’s wearing a smile and wraps an arm around Hanzo’s shoulders, “You have met Jesse?” 

Hanzo nods again, still at a loss for words as he keeps eye contact with the attractive cowboy mechanic. He had not imagined in a million years that he would find Genji  _ and  _ the gorgeous man who fixed his car together. 

“Shit.” Jesse takes his hat off and puts it against his chest, looking sheepish, “If I’da known Genji here was yer brother, well shit.” 

Genji’s laugh is familiar in his ears, “We look exactly alike, Jesse.”

Jesse lifts an eyebrow at that, “Uh, I beg to differ there.” 

Genji startles next to him and Hanzo glances up to see his brothers smile go soft at the stranger still standing silently with them, “Hanzo. This is Zenyatta.”

_ Ya don’t see one of them without the other. _

Oh.

_ Oh. _

Hanzo feels something hitch in his chest at the adoring look on his brother’s face. He soon realizes that getting Genji to come home with him just became the most impossible task Hanzo has ever faced.

He dreads speaking to their father now. 

“It is a pleasure.” Zenyatta tips into a formal bow and Hanzo pulls away from Genji to return it. He feels a rush of pride at Genji teaching a friend to show respect in the way of their culture. 

“What brings you to California, brother?” Genji is grinning at him now and Hanzo catches Jesse’s wince out of the corner of his eye. 

Hanzo opens his mouth, “I am….here to take you home.”

The words fall flat around them and Genji’s face darkens. Jesse sucks in a breath and lets out a curse. Hanzo feels the shame wrap around him and squeeze violently. He has seen this look on Genji’s face many times in his life and it left a scar on him no matter how often he saw it. 

Genji’s eyes narrow and he jerks back a step, “No.”

Hanzo sighs heavily, “Father-.”

“I do not  _ care. _ ” Genji snarls, “Did you come all this way just to bring me home?” He stares at Hanzo in betrayal, “Father  _ has _ been watching me, hasn’t he?”

Hanzo looks away in shame, “You know he has. You think my being here was just a coincidence?” 

Genji’s temper flares visibly and just as his mouth opens again, probably to scream at Hanzo, Zenyatta’s hands press against both of their chests. The man is taller than Hanzo, but still shorter than Genji.

“Let us not do this on the street.” His voice is deeper than Hanzo expected, rich like dark chocolate and almost calming. Genji relaxes under the hand but his eyes remain narrowed at Hanzo. 

“Fine.” Genji snaps.

“How ‘bout Marie’s?” Jesse wraps a hand around Hanzo’s bicep, “Just a short walk down the road, we can grab a bite and talk, yea?”

“A fine idea, Jesse.” Zenyatta drops his hand from Hanzo’s chest and glances up at Genji, “Dearest?”

Genji nods stiffly and Hanzo allows Jesse to tug him away from the pair. He watches Zenyatta press both of his hands to Genji’s cheeks, mouth moving around words Hanzo can’t hear. 

“Who is that?” He asks.

Jesse frowns, “Zenyatta, he already told ya.” The two of them hover near the street corner, watching Zenyatta and Genji talk. 

Hanzo sighs, “I mean who is he to my brother.”

Jesse shrugs, pulls out a pack of smokes and lights up. Hanzo wrinkles his nose at it, but says nothing, “They been together since I met ‘em, bout….I dunno, few months ago.”

“How odd.” Hanzo murmurs. 

His stomach is churning with emotions, both positive and negative, fighting violently for one over the other. Genji is right there, hands over Zenyatta’s and talking in hushed voices. Hanzo feels as though he has violated Genji’s world by being here. Obviously Genji moved on.  _ Obviously _ . 

Hanzo is still running in place.

“Gotta lot o’ gears turnin’.” Jesse chuckles from his side.

Hanzo shoots him a glare, “I am merely surprised to find that my brother has-.”

“Moved on?” Jesse flicks the ash from the cigarette away, “I don’ know much about where he came from, but I know he was an angry son ova bitch when he arrived.”

All their father’s fault. All Hanzo’s fault. 

“Not the best place to meet after all this time.” Jesse states, “On the side of the damn road.”

Hanzo laughs softly, “It would not be Genji if it were not so dramatic a meeting.”

Jesse snorts, “From what I hear, drama runs in yer family.”

“That it does.” Hanzo nods and his shoulder is warm against Jesse’s. The man smells of motor oil and some dark, fragrant cologne that stirs the lust in Hanzo’s belly. He tears his eyes away from his brother to take in Jesse’s maroon shirt and blue jean ensemble for the night. It stirs a question of where the small group had been heading.

He frowns, “Did I interrupt something?” 

Jesse chuckles and puts the cigarette out against the brick of the building, “Naw. Genji texted me to see if I was up for dinner and maybe a bar hop.” 

“Now that I am familiar with.” Hanzo smirks, “Genji was a bar hopper back home.”

“Old habits die hard.” Jesse grins down at him and Hanzo’s insides twist at the sight of it. He is disappointed that his stay here is so temporary. He is very sure that Jesse McCree would be the perfect distraction. Too much of one, if he isn’t careful. He shoves the lust down violently and turns his head back in time to see Genji and Zenyatta making their way to them.

“My apologies for my outburst, Hanzo.” Genji’s voice is softer and kinder than the sharp, angry tone from earlier. 

“I did not mean to interrupt your night or spring myself on you.” Hanzo shakes his head, “I will head back to my hotel for the evening.”

“No!” Both Genji and Jesse reach out for him as he tries to back away. Hanzo binks at them both, eyeing their outstretched hands warily.

“Please, come eat dinner with us.” Genji manages a smile, “I have not seen you in forever.”

_ And whose fault is that? _ Hanzo thinks angrily. 

“Come on.” Jesse waves a hand, “Marie makes the best pancakes this sidda the country.” 

Genji’s laugh is loud and sharp, “They are not near as delicious as yours.”

Hanzo falls in step with them as Jesse leads the way. The cowboy beams from the compliment, “You bet yer ass.”

 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 

Not the best family reunion that Jesse’s seen in his life and he’s seen his fair share, believe it or not. Now that the four of them are shoved into a booth near the window of Marie’s tiny little hole-in-the-wall restaurant, Jesse takes the time to actually spot the family resemblance. Where Hanzo is sharp angles and intense eyes, Genji is softer and easy to smile, that much Jesse already knew. To see them mirrored across a table is a marvel, because now he  _ can _ see it.

“I can not believe you went to all those studios.” Genji laughs, fork cutting into a mountain of syrup covered waffles. 

Hanzo pokes at his pancakes, “I was not expecting there to be so many.”

“In a city this big, we got at least twenty of everything.” Jesse snickers. He puts his forearms against the edge of the table, already finished with his own meal as the other three continue to eat. Hanzo is a warm, comforting weight against his side and the booth is so small everything from their shoulders to their ankles are touching. He allows himself to bask in the feeling for whatever short amount of time he’ll have it. 

“How is your new job?” Zenyatta’s voice is a sudden change from Genji’s loud, boisterous way of speaking. 

Jesse clears his throat, shrugs, “‘s okay, I guess. Wish I was still at Blackwatch.” 

“I can not believe Ana fired you.” Genji shakes his head with a sigh.

“Ana’s reasons are her own.” Zenyatta scolds, “It is her company after all.”

“I know, I know.” Jesse mutters.

“Oh. So you are not usually a mechanic?” Hanzo asks.

“Started just before ya got there.” Jesse manages a weak smile, “Had a better job before, just let my shitty ass past catch up to me.”

“You mean you didn’t cut ties properly.” Genji points a fork at him.

Jesse scowls at it, “Yea, yer one to talk. Ya got yer families lackies spying on you and shit.”

The fork wilts and Genji frowns, “True.”

“To be fair,” Hanzo begins, “Father waited months before inquiring as to your whereabouts.” 

“Still found me.” Genji huffs.

Zenyatta bumps Genji’s shoulders, “Let us pick this up tomorrow?” He looks across the table at Hanzo, “Perhaps at our home?”

Hanzo looks mildly uncomfortable for a moment before nodding. Genji exchanges numbers with his brother and a few minutes later, Zenyatta and Genji are leaving the restaurant with a jolly goodbye to old Marie behind the counter. 

Jesse looks down at Hanzo, who is staring down into his half finished plate of food. “You alright there, partner?” 

Hanzo’s shoulders slump, “No. I am not.” 

He waits a few moments to let Hanzo get his thoughts together, “Wanna talk about it?”

“Not particularly.” Hanzo turns his head to look at Jesse, dark eyes lost, “I am not sure what to do from this point.”

“Well.” Jesse begins, “Ya can’t force him.”

“I can not, no.” Hanzo whispers, “But our father can. I am the bridge, Jesse. I am the olive branch.”

“You really want to take him home that bad?” Jesse scowls, anger flooding him like a river, “Ya can’t just jerk people around and make them do what ya want, Shimada.” 

Hanzo bristles, “I am aware, but is better for me to convince him to come home before father sends someone else to do it for me. It does not end well for either of us.”

“What kinda father does shit like that?” Jesse snaps.

“It has always been this way.” 

Jesse wants to say something else, but Hanzo has gone back to staring at his food. The diner is not full for this time of night, but there are a fair bit of people sitting at the tables, sobering up or starting the night. He doesn’t want to make Hanzo angry enough to start a real fight, not after the outburst from Genji.

“So. What are ya gonna do?” Jesse breaks the silence again.

Hanzo looks at him once more, eyes scanning him from his face down to his chest. His skin tingles and heat flushes to his face as that intense gaze takes him in. Hanzo looks like he’s thinking real hard about something and Jesse suddenly desperately hopes that something is himself. 

“I do not think I want to return to my hotel tonight.” Hanzo says carefully, the corner of his lip tilting up, “Would you be opposed to taking me home with you?”

Jesse squeaks. 

 

-0-0-0-0-

  
  


Jesse McCree is not a patient man. 

He proves that by shoving Hanzo up against the side of his rental car and devouring his mouth. Hanzo surges under the kiss, strong hands gripping Jesse’s biceps and squeezing with every flick of his tongue. They are just parked outside of Jesse’s apartment complex, but he couldn’t wait any longer. Not with Hanzo casting him slow, patient looks across the car the entire ride from Marie’s to his home. 

He tugs heavily on Hanzo’s button up, trying to bring him towards the entrance to his complex. His body burns from the onslaught of Hanzo’s clever mouth and he’s already half hard in his jeans. Hanzo doesn’t seem to be faring any better, whimpering under Jesse’s mouth and stumbling into his chest when they cross the threshold of the mail room. 

They hurry up the stairs, trading needy kisses and hushed moans. Jesse fumbles in his pockets for his keys once they reach his door. The metal jingles between his fingers as Hanzo catches his mouth in another kiss, hand cupping the front of Jesse’s jeans. 

He yelps in pleasure, the sound of his keys hitting the hallway floor a distant thing. Hanzo pushes him against the wall and deft, beautiful fingers pull Jesse’s belt open and quickly unzip his jeans. Jesse’s breath stutters in his chest, lust flaring hot at the base of his spine as Hanzo shoves his underwear down under his balls to free his cock. 

“Oh hell.” Jesse mutters, “Oh damn, darlin’.” 

Hanzo glances up once with a sly grin and wraps a hand around it, tugging slow and tight from base to tip. Jesse’s mouth drops open, a breathy exhale of pleasure escaping as his skin burns under those dark eyes. He knows good and goddamn well that they’re up against a wall in the hallway, but he doesn’t care. Fucking hell he can barely think past the cool, rough texture of Hanzo’s hands. They’re the hands of a man who's used them often and Jesse wants to know on what. What did Hanzo do? Jesse wants to know it all.

_ Dangerous _ . Dangerous territory there, McCree. 

“Goddamn.” He hisses at a fancy twist of Hanzo’s wrist that sends lust skating to his belly like wildfire. 

Hanzo chuckles, leaning up to catch Jesse’s mouth. He meets it with enthusiasm, tongue eager to taste the leftover syrup and soda from Hanzo’s meal. He’s not far from the edge, orgasm hovering right where he can almost reach it.

“Hell,” He breathes against Hanzo’s mouth, “Been thinkin’ ‘bout this since I first saw you.” He’s babbling like a moron, but he doesn’t care, just as long as Hanzo keeps stroking him that way. Hard, then soft, then quick with a twist at the end. It burns him up and he groans against the warm, wet mouth tangling with his own, “You ain’t like anyone I’ve ever met.  _ Goddamn _ .” 

“You are so vocal.” Hanzo whispers in wonder, thumb swiping over the slit of Jesse’s cock and spreading the mess of precum down his shaft in one smooth stroke, “Come.” His voice is final, stern, and it rumbles over Jesse like a tidal wave and shoves him over the edge so fast his vision goes blurry. The orgasm makes his knees shake and his prosthetic fingers dig into the wall behind him as he struggles to catch his breath in the wake of it. 

Hanzo mutters something soft in japanese as he finishes milking Jesse’s cock and it sends a shiver of heat through him again. 

“What the  _ fuck _ ?”

Jesse’s brow furrows at the angry voice that does  _ not _ belong to Hanzo. He tips his head back down from where it was against the wall and see’s the rush of a blush light up Hanzo’s face. He blinks a few times before glancing over where Hanzo is staring.

Damn.

“You’re in the fucking hall,  _ cabron!”  _ Reyes is standing in the doorway to his apartment, hoodie in one hand and gym bag in the other. 

Jesse bashes his head against the wall with a groan.

Double damn. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boom.
> 
> I would also like to note that I scrapped the original timeline I built for this fic so I could fit Genji and Zenyatta's stuff into it as well. It may end up longer than intended. 
> 
> I just want my dragon boys to be happy, okay? Is that too much to ask?


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally getting some gears turning in this story. An actual plot is evolving. A storm is brewing. 
> 
> Be prepared.
> 
> There are sexy times with Genji and Zenyatta in this one. If you're not into that, just skip to the last sentence. 
> 
> _Enjoy_

**Three**

Hanzo has never been a coward. 

He is one today, however, as he attempts to slink out of Jesse’s apartment before the sun rises. The man is snoring away in his bed, limbs askew and sleeping like someone who is not used to sharing a bed. He gathers his clothes from the floor, feet silent as he slips from the room to get hastily dressed in the living area. 

McCree’s small apartment is full of worn furniture, a shelf of spaghetti westerns, and a TV that nearly covers his entire wall. It looked…..lived in, Hanzo thinks. It looked like the man himself, actually. 

The clock on the microwave reads four thirty three and Hanzo groans inwardly at the time. He had not expected to even stay this long. Jesse had been very convincing though, with his brown eyes and his beard scraping the side of Hanzo’s cheek as he whispered filthy promises of a return handjob. 

That was of course, after they apologized to Jesse’s traumatized neighbor. 

Hanzo finds his rental keys and wallet on the floor of the foyer. He retrieves them with a swoop, slips his shoes on and casts one last, longing look into Jesse’s apartment. One night, he decides firmly, letting himself out. One night and that is it. No more indulgences, not more distractions.

Bring. Genji. Home.

The ride back to his hotel is a lonely one. Los Angeles wakes up around him as he pulls into the parking garage and hands the valet his keys. His room is lonely as well. The sheets are freshly made, his clothes are tidy in the dresser. 

He thinks of Jesse’s half open drawers and strewn clothing, the unmade bed that smelt of muted cologne and laundry detergent. A very,  _ very _ risky part of him wishes he hadn’t left. Instead, he pulls his cellphone out of his pocket and dials his father’s number. 

He silently hopes the elder Shimada has turned in for the night, but has no such luck as the man answers on the third ring. 

“ _ Did you find him? _ ” If Hanzo didn’t know their father as well as he did, the man would almost sound concerned. Perhaps he is, in his own way, Hanzo surmises. 

He hesitates on the ‘Yes’ that wants to come from his mouth. It is a conditioned response. He is supposed to obey without question. 

“I am close.” Hanzo says instead and his chest loosens at the admission. 

“ _ Close is not good enough. Do not make me send someone in your place.”  _ Sojiro’s voice is thunderous and the knot tightens back again. “ _ I allowed you to take this because Genji will listen to you. Your time limit is almost up.” _

Hanzo’s fingers tighten around the phone, “Yes father.” 

The click of the line disconnecting sends Hanzo’s blood to boiling. He takes a few steadying breaths and contemplates mediating for a while, but his phone vibrates in his palm. 

Genji’s number flashes and a text pops up.

_ Join us for tea and meditation?  _

He would not dare turn it down, so he sends Genji an affirmative reply and leaves his hotel once more. 

He is knocking on a blue apartment door twenty minutes later. Zenyatta answers the door dressed in green pants and a sailor moon t-shirt that Hanzo would bet his life is actually Genji’s. Genji himself is upside down on a blue yoga mat across the room, a white cat curled up to his left and a brown one to his right. His eyes are closed and his hair is brushing the surface of the mat just barely. His shirt is non-existent, leaving his green dragon exposed across his back leading into the back of black yoga pants. 

Zenyatta passes him with a soft, “Would you like some tea?”

Hanzo nods, “Yes, thank you.”

Zenyatta hums happily and enters into the open kitchen area attached to the living room. Hanzo also notes that their idea of ‘furniture’ is a nest of pillows and blankets against one wall and a small TV perched near the window. It leaves three mats exposed in the center of the room.

“You found us alright, Hanzo?” Genji asks from his upside down position.

Hanzo slips his shoes off before taking the mat further away from the other two. He sinks down to his knees and waits, hands laid flat against his slacks. 

His…

Hanzo peers down at his pants.

_ Yesterday’s pants. _

“And yes. I noticed you are still in the clothes you wore last night.” Genji’s voice has a smirk in it and Hanzo looks down to see his brother giving him a salacious grin. “Did you enjoy Jesse’s ‘company’?”

“Do not be rude, dearest.” Zenyatta sighs from the kitchen. 

“I am not.” Genji continues grinning and it heats Hanzo’s face all the more, “But if you knew Hanzo like  _ I _ know Hanzo then this is very interesting indeed.”

“Cease speaking.” Hanzo whispers harshly.

“Not a chance.” Genji lets out a slow breath and comes down elegantly. The white cat lets out a huff at his decent and finds a different resting ground. His brother settles into a pose that mirrors Hanzo’s own and he is still wearing that infuriating smile. “You have not even been here that long.” 

Hanzo takes in a slow breath, “It was a foolish,  impulsive decision.” 

A green eyebrow raises slowly, “So?”

“So-.” Hanzo grits his teeth, “That is not why I’m here.”

“Of course not,” Genji waves a hand sarcastically, “Having sex with a gorgeous american cowboy-.”

“We did not have sex!” Hanzo cuts in.

“You did  _ something _ .” Genji tips his head to the side and gives Zenyatta a completely different smile when he arrives with the tea. 

“Would you like me to leave?” Zenyatta asks, hands cupping his own tea. 

Genji returns his stare to Hanzo, who feels fidgety under the couple's eyes. “You may stay.” Hanzo mumbles, only because he can not bear to see Genji’s let down face again. 

Zenyatta titters happily and takes a lotus position on the mat next to Genji. Hanzo watches the two of them exchange a soft smile before Genji turns back to face his brother. Genji looks different, here in the morning sunlight. Hanzo as spent most of his life watching Genji slink through the shadows of their home, evading father and sometimes Hanzo himself. Now, his shoulders are back and his face is devoid of dark circles or stress lines. He looks healthy and happy as he strokes a hand down the back of the brown cat as it patters past them towards the nest of blankets. 

“How did father find me, Hanzo?” Genji’s voice is soft, curious.

Hanzo follows the brown cat with his eyes,  “A month ago he asked me if I had heard from you.” He sighed, “I have been worried since you left, but he did not seem concerned.”

“He was only concerned with me if I dishonored one of his acquaintances.” Genji nods, “My other….” Hanzo watches Genji swallow and glance under his lashes at Zenyatta, “My other  _ activities _ never bothered him.”

Ah. The smoking and drinking and sex. Hanzo remembers how flagrant Genji had been. He himself had been sent to pick up Genji multiples times when he was too drunk to even function. Father never seemed to care.

_ He is young. Let him be young. _

Hanzo was never afforded that luxury.

“You know as well as I that father has connections in America.” Hanzo says, “I assume he picked the cities you would most assuredly flock to.” 

Genji wrinkles his nose, “It took him a  _ month _ ?”

“Less than that.” Hanzo mutters, “I….” He meets Genji’s gaze across the room, “I suggested California. You have always spoken about visiting and I-.” He shrugs one shoulder, “He found whispers of you in under two days.”

Genji looks betrayed again, but the intensity from last night is gone, there is no anger in his gaze this time.  Zenyatta is staring between the two of them with a frown, Hanzo wonders what he is thinking. 

“You two have very intricate issues.” The man murmurs, “Are you prepared to take him home with so many of them tangled?”

Genji’s head whips around, “I’m not leaving you!”

Zenyatta smiles gently, “Dearest,” He reaches over to pat Genji’s hand, “I am not talking to you.”

Genji bites at his bottom lip and Hanzo feels Zenyatta’s eyes burning into him. He shifts nervously under the young man’s gaze. 

“My only job is to bring Genji to our father.” He reiterates, “No more, no less. Our issues can be addressed once we are home.”

Hanzo watches Genji grit his teeth in anger, hand turning over under Zenyatta’s to squeeze it. He can see the anger boiling inside of Genji, but Zenyatta murmurs something in a language Hanzo does not recognize and Genji visibly relaxes. 

“I will fetch us brunch.” Zenyatta brings Genji’s hand to his mouth and presses a kiss to the top before releasing it as he stands, “Is there anything you do not wish to eat?” He addresss Hanzo now.

Hanzo shakes his head.

“Do not fight.” Zenyatta warns serenely, “Do not move. Talk, but do not shout.”

“I promise.” Genji frowns.

“As do I.” Hanzo nods to him.

A pleased smile breaks across Zenyatta’s features and Hanzo listens as the apartment door opens and shuts behind them. 

He stares at his brother for a solid five minutes in silence before speaking, “He is not your usual type.” Hanzo does not mean to bring the odd young man Genji is living with, it is not his place or his business, but he can not help his curiosity.

Genji’s shoulders lose some of the tension lining them, “He is not.” His head of green hair tilts slightly, “But it seems we are both detouring from our usual paths.”

“Oh?” Hanzo questions.

An impish smile tugs at the corners of Genji’s mouth, “You are not one to hop into bed with anyone so quickly.”

Hanzo bristles, “We did not have  _ penetrative sex. _ ” 

“Sex is sex is sex,  _ aniki. _ ” Genji shrugs dramatically, “You spent part of the night in his bed and did not even bother changing before you joined us.” 

Hanzo closes his eyes in shame, “I do not-.” He swallows, “I do not make a habit of sleeping with men I do not know.”

“Jesse is not just any man though, is he?” Genji’s voice is low and cautious. His brother knows that he is toeing a line Hanzo does not wish for him to cross.

“He is only a man.” Hanzo opens his eyes again, “It will not happen twice.”

“Why not?” Genji frowns, “What is the harm in a little fun with a handsome stranger?”

Anger laces through Hanzo, “Because I am not like  _ you _ .”

Genji looks mildly offended at that, frown redoubling as he stares Hanzo down. The anger seethes under his skin, roiling like an teakettle with too much water. His fingers curl into fists against his thighs, hands shaking only slightly.

He has never in his entire life  _ slept _ with someone so soon after meeting them. He is in control of himself at all times. His father spent every day from the death of their mother making sure Hanzo would never lose control of his emotions or of his faculties. That included intimate contact with anyone outside of the Shimada’s clutches.  _ Genji _ had been awarded a free pass to any and everything with a pulse, while Hanzo stayed locked away in a room wishing he were dead instead of a _ prisoner _ inside his own home. 

However, he inhales slowly and releases the anger on an exhale, perhaps Genji had felt just as trapped as Hanzo. 

For Genji it was easier to leave. Hanzo can still feel the cold, sticky fingers of duty pulling at his body no matter how far away he seemed to be. 

“My apologies.” Hanzo mutters, “I merely meant…..”

“I understand.” Genji fidgets with with his fingers in his lap, an old habit Hanzo is elated to recognize. “I know how difficult I was at home. I was frivolous with my affections and I caused distress in you.” 

Hanzo shakes his head, “That is not your burden to bear-.”

Genji lifts a hand, “But it is yours and I have been careless with that.” He lets out a sigh, “But I can not go home with you Hanzo.” 

Anxiety spikes in his stomach, “Genji, you must.” Hanzo tries to sound earnest, “You have been here long enough.”

“This isn’t just a whim or a vacation Hanzo.” Genji’s voice grows firm, confident, “I’m not leaving him.”

“I can not hide you from father for the rest of your life!” Hanzo snaps. 

Genji lifts his head high, “He will eventually forget about me, Hanzo.”

“You are his  _ son. _ ” Hanzo barks incredulously.

“So are you.” Genji replies hotly, “But he has never treated you as such.”

“I hear raised voices.” Zenyatta’s calm baritone sends both of their shoulders skyward in defense. Hanzo turns to face Genji’s partner with cautious eyes. He is carrying two bags of what smells to be chicken salad and bacon. His feet slip from the sandals he wore out and he stares between the two of them with a frightfully neutral expression. 

“We are fine, Zen.” Genji assures, “Just a disagreement.” He rises to his feet and carefully pads across the floor to take the bags from Zenyatta. “I’ll make lunch.” Hanzo watches him enter the kitchen, pulling out plates, glasses, and condiments from the refrigerator. 

Zenyatta takes a kneeling position to Hanzo’s left and peers at him. “You are not what I expected.”

Hanzo frowns, “The feeling is mutual.”

Zenyatta smiles, “He has talked about you quite often. He  _ has _ missed you, Hanzo.”

“Then why would he refuse to come home with me?” Hanzo whispers, “If he misses me, why would he leave? He cut off all communication with me.”

“When our hearts are in turmoil, we often do what we must to escape it.” Zenyatta hums, “Genji had no money and a fair amount of anger inside of him when we met. It took me….” He takes a shaky breath, the first flaw in his outward appearance that Hanzo has seen since they met, “Many months to calm him.” The look on his face gives way to sadness and Hanzo’s heart clenches.

“If I do not bring him home,” Hanzo begins, “Our father will do it by force.” He turns his head to stare at his brother’s back, dragon dancing along the pale skin, “I am far kinder, I assure you.”

  
  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  


Jesse tries not to be bitterly disappointed that Hanzo was gone when he woke, but it happens anyway. He spent over an hour laid out in his bed, replaying the frantic, eager handjob in the hall and Hanzo’s broken, stuttered cries as Jesse brought him off with own hand. He gave into the urge to rub one out just to try and clear the heated thoughts, but it still leaves a raw itch he can’t quite scratch. 

“You’re in your head today, my friend.” Zarya comments, her hands slick with oil and grease as she changes the filters on a motorcycle. 

He glances up from under his stetson, his own hands tinkering away at an engine that Mako put up on the block yesterday. The damn thing needed a total overhaul and Mako had ‘other plans’ that required his attention this week. So Jesse was stuck with the very ill taken care of engine. 

“Just somethings.” He mutters in reply.

Zarya huffs, “More than a ‘something’.” She screws a new filter in, “Wouldn’t have anything to do with that handsome man with the rental car, now would it?”

Jesse grunts, “Might.”

“I will not pry, but a man who just got laid should not look so downtrodden.” Zarya chuckles.

Jesse looks up at her again, frowning, “Who says I go’ laid?”

She points at him, “I know what a man looks like after sex,  _ Mal'chik _ .” 

“We didn’ have sex, Zar.” Jesse sighs, “Just exchanged some ‘how do you do’s’.”

“Ah.” She nods, “Was it bad then?”

“Fuck no.” Jesse lets out a rush of a laugh, “Hottest thing I ever saw. He’s a dream, I tell ya. Just ya know…..bailed out.” He tries to shrug it off, pretend it didn’t bother him that Hanzo snuck out in the dead of night. He knows she can tell that it  _ does _ bother him. Zarya may look like a muscle head, but she’s perceptive and kind in all the ways that count.

“He is here for a short time, no?” 

Jesse shrugs, “I suppose.” 

“Perhaps it is easier for him to cut ties that way.” She starts the bike up and it sounds much louder within the bay of the shop, “Someone who does not wish to get attached will leave.” She smiles at him, “It is not an insult to you.”

Well, fuck him, he knows that. He does. Honestly. 

Jesse buries his hands back inside the engine. The shop sounds drown out as he works and he thinks about Zarya’s words. Hanzo was a fabulous man in a bomb body and Jesse’s just a little bummed that he couldn’t make the  man a proper breakfast after giving him the hottest handjob of his existence. 

However, he knew that Hanzo was just here for Genji, despite the other man’s protests. Hanzo isn’t here to stay, he’s here on ‘business’ and Jesse’s just gonna have to accept it. 

Fifteen minutes into changing the head gaskets he hears Torbjorn let out a vicious cuss word and a short bark of ‘Get ‘ve hell out of my shop!’. Jesse brings his head up just as Zarya does from the oil alley under a small suburban. A slouching figure walks out of the shop’s front door, middle finger up. 

Fear shoots up his spine and damn near paralyzes him. He knows that figure, that shitty posture and worn rubber boots. The ripped jeans and ratty red t-shirt. Jesse’ll also bet his left nut that there’s a skull and crossbones at the base of his neck. Just like the one hidden under his own hair. 

He grits his teeth in anger, slamming his tool down and making a beeline for the retreating figure. His boots pound furiously against the pavement and he snatches the arm of the man and shoves him around the corner of the shop near his smoke break area. 

“Watch it!” The man shouts as Jesse slams him against the wall. 

“What th’ fuck you doin’ here, Mackie?” Jesse snarls into his face. 

Mackie’s features go from angry scowl to a cheshire grin, “Hey! Just the man I was lookin’ for.”

Jesse drills a finger into Mackie’s chest, “You ain’t lookin’ fer me, bucko.” 

“Ah ah ah.” Mackie chuckles, pushing Jesse’s finger away with an even eviler grin, “I do as I’m told and I was told to look for you.”

Rage boils under his skin as the shorter man’s grin eats away at his patience, “I’m done with Deadlock.”

Mackie lets out a bark of laughter, “That ain’t how it works, McCree.”

“That’s how it works with me.” Jesse hisses, “Not a damn thing any of you say will bring me back.”

“Not even for two mil?”Mackie asks.

Jesse growls, “I don’t want none of yer blood money anymore.” 

“Too bad.” Mackie shrugs, “ _ She _ wants you in on it.”

“I don’t want nothin’ to do with any of you.” Jesse grounds out, nerves frayed and sweat gathering at the back of his neck. Every part of him is screaming to run.  _ Run run, they found you! _ He just got comfortable again because of his shitty mistakes he’s going to lose another fuckin-

The cocking of a shotgun startles them both and Mackie’s eyes go round as he they turn to face Torbjorn, who is holding a shotgun and Zarya, who is standing behind him with her hands on her hips. 

“I told you to get out of my shop.” Torb snaps.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Mackie hisses, jerking out from in front of Jesse and stumbling for the sidewalk, “Crazy old man!”

“Come on my property again and I’ll shoot ya!” Torb shouts. 

Mackie sticks his tongue out and points to Jesse, “You don’t show and she comes for ya, you know the rules, McCree!”

Jesse watches Mackie hurry down the sidewalk and out of view before shoving a hand through his hair and turning on Torb, “Shit, I’m sorry-.” He starts babbling, “I’ll put in my notice, shit. Fuck.” He takes off his hat and shifts from foot to foot.

“Oh stop your yammerin.” Torb sets the shotgun over his shoulder, “Amari warned me those nimrods would probably come my way.”

Jesse slumps, “Ain’t no excuse.” 

“No.” Zarya says, “But Miss Amari sent you to us for a reason, Jesse.” 

“You think Zarya and Mako are upstanding citizens?” Torb snorts, “Mayve in an alternate reality.”

Jesse’s fingers clench into the fabric of his stetson while his other hand rubs at the tattoo sweating at the back of his neck, “You just hire misfits who made bad choices, Torb.” The words fall bitterly from his mouth.

Torb glares at him, “Watch your tongue, boy. I put you where you need to be until you get your shit in order. They ain’t the first wayward youths in my shop and ya’ll won’t be the last.”

It makes him feel only  _ slightly _ better, knowing Torb’s doing it for the right reasons. Still makes him feel like shit.

“Take the day, my friend.” Zarya reaches forward and pats his shoulders, “I will handle the engine.”

“Naw.” Jesse shakes his head, “Let me finish my work.”

They let him go, surprisingly enough, and he finishes the engine by seven. The shop is empty by the time he pulls down the bay doors and locks Torb’s office up. He can see the sun setting slowly over the horizon of trees and houses to the west. 

He takes the bus home, watches the roads grow dark. Nightlife on a Monday isn’t the most extravagant, but it’s still lively for a city as big as LA. A few tourists are giggling about a night club they want to try out near the front of the bus and Jesse tries to drown out the pitched sound.

With Deadlock on his tail again, goddamn, he can’t get a moments peace. He’d gone almost eight months without contact, then someone showed up and harassed Ana. Now they’re stalking him again less than two weeks later?

He knocks his head back against the glass and hears the automated voice system names his stop. A few others get off with him, but he doesn’t bother greeting them or nothin’, just enters his apartment building. 

He thinks long and hard about going to Fareeha’s place, but he ain’t in the mood to listen to her talk in her mother’s voice at him. So, he ends up knocking on Reyes’s door. 

Gabriel’s door opens slowly and the man himself looks like absolute shit. The circles under his eyes are worse, Jesse can smell the stale scent of booze and unwashed clothes from the two feet that separate them. 

“Fuckin’ shit, Reyes.” He wrinkles his nose, “You drunk?”

“Fuck off.” Gabriel snaps, “I haven’t had anything to drink since last night, what do you want you exhibitionist?”  

Jesse frowns, “I have some questions.”

One of Gabriel’s dark brows goes up, “About what?”

“Me.” Jesse mutters, “From my...uh….old days.”

Gabriel lets out a sigh, “They bothering you again?”

“Of course they are.” Jesse sighs, “Don’t think I’ll ever be rid of them.”

“Not true.” Gabriel grunts, “Come on in. Mind the mess.”

The door opens further and Jesse steps inside. Gabe’s apartment is just as messy as it was the last time he was over. The dishes are piled high in the sink, leftover take out boxes are strewn all over the coffee table. Everything about his apartment screams depression and Jesse hates it. Mostly because Gabe refuses to get any help with it. 

Jesse takes a seat on one end of the sofa and Gabe takes the other, resting his arms over his knees and peering over at him. 

“Who was it?” Gabriel asks.

“Mackie.” Jesse groans.

Gabriel snorts, “They always send that little weasel.”

“It’s because he’s a weasel that they send him.” Jesse bemoans, “Every time I think I’m in the clear they just pop up like daisies!”

“You made the choice to join them, Jesse.” Gabriel reminds him and it sends his mood even further into the pits. He’s so sicka hearing everyone state the obvious, “But you also made the choice to leave.”

He turns his head to look at the soldier and Gabriel is staring at the wall. The man looks so much older than he actually is. War wasn’t kind. Gone was the joking, back slapping happy man who picked Jesse up off the streets and taught him to make a life outside of crime. This man was a dark, gutted out version that had seen hell and came back with it nipping at his heels.

“You okay?” Jesse forgets his own problems for a moment.

“When am I ever?” Gabriel shrugs.

“You look worse than last time.” 

“Oh?” Gabriel tips his head at him, dark eyes glittering, “You mean when I found you with your dick out in the hall?”

Jesse’s face flushes, “Come on man! Don’t bring that up now!”

Gabriel’s grin is shark-like, “Who was your friend? I didn’t get much further than a ‘Excuse our rudeness’ before he dragged your limp ass into the apartment.”

Jesse drops his face into his hands, “That’s Hanzo.”

“Hanzo.” Gabriel tries the name out.

“Yea.” Jesse rubs his hands down his face, “He’s uh here to get his brother.”

Gabriel frowns, “They why the fuck are you sleeping with him?”

“It was one night.” Jesse tries to play it off nonchalantly, “He’ll be heading back to Japan soon, I assume.”

“You don’t do one nights.” Gabriel insists, “Ever.”

“Well, I did with this one.” Jesse snaps. 

“Must be something special.” Gabriel says.

Jesse shrugs it off, “Not really. You got any booze?”

Gabriel gives him a sarcastic look, “You fucking know I do.”

 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  


“Ah! G- _ Genji _ .” 

Genji hums out a soft laugh against the smooth skin of Zenyatta’s stomach. His fingers are curled around thin hips, thumbs stroking the sensitive grooves where bone and cartilage met. Zen squirms under him, cock straining under Genji’s neck and spreading slick precum along his throat. He opens his mouth against the skin and lays a wet kiss there, tasting the clean soap from their shower. 

“You are so beautiful, Zen.” Genji murmurs, pressing more kisses down to where his lover wants it the most. He wraps his fingers around the warm erection and gives it a stroke. An agonized whine bubbles out of Zen’s throat and one of his hands tangles in the bright green of his hair. 

Zen gasps softly when Genji lowers his mouth onto him, the salty skin of his dick a pleasant taste on his tongue. Every cry he pulls on every downstroke of his mouth is like a song and Zenyatta sings it so well. His own pleasure burns between his legs, but he doesn’t worry about it. Now is for the gorgeous man beneath him, thin fingers threading through his hair and soft, gasping moans spurning him higher. 

“Oh, dearest.” Zenyatta murmurs, his hips rising and falling with the encouragement of Genji’s hands. He can tell that Zen is getting close, and part of him wants to bring him over that edge before he gets inside. 

He lets Zen’s cock slip out of his mouth and he laves it with his tongue for a moment, eliciting another whine and an impatient shifting of hips.

“Do not make me wait, dear.” Zenyatta grasps for him, trying to tug him up by his arm and his upper arm, “I have been waiting all day.”

Genji chuckles and slides up Zen’s body, nipping at one of his nipples before rising up to capture his mouth. Zen groans into the kiss, arms winding around the back of his neck to tug him closer, legs falling open to cradle Genji’s hips. Zen tastes like the tea they had after their evening session and the fancy organic toothpaste from the market. 

When they finally break apart, it is with a little more urgency that he prepares Zenyatta. His fingers squelch with lube, stretching Zen thoroughly and sinking into the moans that come from doing so. 

As he sinks inside, he thinks of having to leave this. He thinks of flying away to his homeland with Hanzo and leaving this breathless, beautiful man behind. Every meal and session they have shared, every laugh he stole and kisses he reveled in, gone because his father needed control over all. 

Zenyatta’s eyes watch him, nearly clouded over his lust. One of his hands untwists from the sheets beneath them and cups Genji’s cheek, “I could not bear it if you left me.”

Genji closes his eyes and snaps his hips forward, pulling a strangled moan from both of their mouths, “They will have to kill me first.” He vows it, speaks it clearly and for the entire room to hear as he glides in and out of the love of his life. Zenyatta is not one for overly emotional outbursts, but he keens under Genji’s thrusts, rushed words of affection and love spoken into the skin of his shoulder. 

It is more than Genji can take and they crash over the edge together, breathing labored and arms wrapped tight around one another. 

Later, he stares up at the ceiling, Zenyatta tucked into his side. His breathing is warm against his chest, arm loose across his stomach and Genji has never felt more at peace. 

He does not know how Hanzo plans on bringing him home. 

He does know that if he must fight his brother to stay, then he will do what he must. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just. I love Zenyatta so much. I want him to be worshiped.
> 
> In other news, writing Gabriel in a more condensed form of his PTSD takes a lot out of me. I knew he was going to be written this way because this is three years before In the language of flowers. 
> 
> Still.
> 
> Thank you for all the support and kudos and comments! You guys are my driving force and I love each and every one of you!


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Slides this across the table_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Sorry for the late update, I am unable to write with a migraine. So I'm behind about a day on everything. 
> 
>  
> 
> _Enjoy_

**Four**

_What is the harm in a little fun with a handsome stranger?_

The sentence follows Hanzo around for a grand total of two days. His father gives him another week to ‘find Genji’ and he is surprised that the old man didn’t already have men tailing him. He has been extra careful to still look as though he is ‘searching’ even though he knows that Genji is safe in his little yoga studio.  

Hanzo looks out his hotel window, the night lights of LA bright. He has never been so far from home for so long. He misses his bed, but he is curious to find that he does not miss the rest. The all-seeing eyes of his father, pressure to look and act the part of Shimada heir. It is gone here in this sprawling city thousands of miles away from his home country.

He only wishes he had a way to pass the time that did not include watching horrific soap operas on the hotel television. His phone provides little amusement but he contemplates seeing what Genji is up to. It is not easy, reaching out to a man who refuses to come home with you one second, but offers you food and easy conversation in the next.

As he scrolls through the recent text list he spots the one from Genji right under-

Hanzo’s features drop into a scowl at the ID that says ‘Sexy Cowman’ above Genji’s. He knew he shouldn’t have let his brother use his phone.

‘Mine isn’t working’ Hanzo’s ass.

His fingers hover over it, eyes focused as he tries to decide what to do. Delete or see what Genji was up to?

He clicks it out of curiousity and in the first box is a simple ‘ _This is Hanzo’s number if you ever get the courage to talk to him again_ ’

Jesse’s ‘ _That’s mighty rude of you to take his phone like tha_ t’ is the last reply from him after Genji’s tongue emoticon.

Hanzo’s thumb brushes over Genji’s first message. _Did_ Jesse want to see him again? Hanzo does not know the proper etiquette for meeting up with a-what was it american’s called it? One night stands. He has only been with one person in his entire life and she-

He closes his eyes and tries not to think of that. He is not home. He is not duty bound from across the ocean.

His decision is swift and easy. The shower warms for him as he sifts through his clothes to find something suitable for a midnight romp with a stranger. He talks himself out of it at least four times in the shower, sends Genji a text on what he should bring.

His phone vibrates with a tune five seconds later and Hanzo rolls his eyes before setting it against his shoulder to answer.

“A message would suffice.”

“ _Nonsense._ ” Their native tongue from Genji’s side of the line warms Hanzo, “ _This is your first time with an american and I will guide you, brother.”_

Hanzo wrinkles his nose, “I do not need a _guide_ Genji.”

“ _Ah, but you do. Jesse may not be prepared for you.”_ He hears Genji send a polite apology to Zenyatta, who mumbles in the distance as he hears Genji get out of bed. “ _There is a corner store near Jesse’s apartment complex. Stop there for the essentials.”_

Hanzo swallows, “I am unsure if I should do this.” The hesitation crawls up into his throat like bile. He is in control of his functions at all times. He does not need sex with a stranger in another country to sate him.

“ _And yet you will do it.”_ Genji hums, “ _Hanzo. If you are to go home soon, with or without me, what would you like to take from this trip? Memories of sitting alone in your hotel room begging me to go someplace I have no desire to return to. Or tumbling in bed with a gorgeous man?_ ”

“I do not want him to get attached.” Hanzo voices his real concern. He has been with someone to whom he as formed no emotional attachment with, so he is sure he can control it. Jesse is who he worries about. The man is vibrant and all encompassing with his affections.

“ _Pah_ .” Genji clucks his tongue, “ _Jesse is a grown man. If he doesn’t think he can handle himself, he will send you away._ ”

The thought alone causes Hanzo to wince visibly. To be rejected by a man who so enthusiastically returned a hand job with whispered words that drove Hanzo over the edge and then some, would be quite...upsetting.  

He hangs up with Genji when the younger man starts making kissing noises over the line. Hanzo sighs heavily, sends one last look into his dreadfully boring hotel room and walks out into the hallway.

He leaves his car behind, opting to take the bus and hoping he remembers the way there. The corner store is easy enough to find and he peruses through the small section for sex. Things are not so prominently displayed on shelves in Japan, he think as he eyes the boxes of condoms and lubrication.

The lady behind the counter eyes his products with a knowing grin and he is ashamed to say his face heats up under the stare. He pays her with american cash and rushes back out into the street, bag heavy with his purchase.

Five minutes later, he is standing in front of Jesse’s apartment complex and it already a quarter to one in the morning. He looks down at his cellphone and wonders what the hell he thinks he’s doing at _one_ in the morning. He should have waited until morning, to text and set up a time to meet. Hanzo is organized and punctual. He does not show up at strange men’s houses for _sex._

But Jesse is no strange man, is he?

Hanzo squares his shoulders and pushes open the glass doors to the complex. A woman is at the mailbox, black hair past her shoulders and blue uniform crisp around a strong body. She glances over at him when he enters and her eyebrows go up into her hairline.

“Holy shit.”

Hanzo blinks, taken aback, “Excuse me?”

She eyes him from head to toe and then her eyes lock onto the bag in his hand and he thanks the gods that it’s a _paper_ bag.

“Holy _shit_ .” She starts laughing hysterically, forehead pressed to the line of metal boxes. He watches her shoulders shake, fists curled tight as the laughter vibrates through her.  “Oh, _habibi_. No wonder Jesse’s been pouting.” She straightens slowly, still snickering as she tucks her mail up under her arm, “You must be Hanzo.”

He stares at her outstretched hand for a moment before taking it hesitantly. She is quick with her shake before she’s looking at him with a tilted head. Her face is sharp and beautiful, and he has no doubt that her wit is as sharp as she. “I am.” He replies, “Though I do not know who you are.”

“Oh.” She grins and it is sharklike, “We know who _you_ are because Gabe was so traumatized he called an emergency floor meeting.”

Hanzo flushes, “Ah-.”

She waves a hand, “Don’t sweat it, it’s the most action Jesse’s had in _years_ .” Her thumb jerks up in the direction of the stairs, “I’m heading out but he _is_ up there.” She wiggles her eyebrows and points to the bag, “You know.”

Hanzo is so embarrassed he wants to turn tail and run, but he does not. He nods to her and says a curt ‘goodbye’ which she mirrors with a laugh. The stairs are daunting as he climbs them, each floor passing with the knowledge that he is one step closer to facing Jesse. He can not believe he let Genji’s words get to him.

He stops at the top of the stairs and pauses, staring at Jesse’s door like it is the gate to hell. Or heaven should he choose to take the last steps. Anxiety curls around in his gut and the bag in his hand becomes heavier with the weight of what he is about to do.

It is not wise.

It is _not wise._

He finds himself knocking on Jesse’s door anyway, heart pounding. Beyond the wood he hears the sounds of a television being muted and a grunt. Footsteps come towards the door and Hanzo contemplates bolting one final time before the door swings open.

Hanzo’s breath hitches. Jesse is not wearing a shirt, his dark grey sweats are ripped at the knee, and he looks fresh from a shower, judging by the still-wet mass of his hair. He looks _delicious_ and lust rolls like a hungry lion in his belly.  

Jesse blinks at him, “Hanzo?”

The words get stuck in his throat with Jesse’s amber eyes staring down at him. He’s leaning against the doorframe, confusion on his face as he watches Hanzo’s mouth open and close.

“I am aware that the hour is late.” Hanzo finally manages, fingers curling tighter around the handle of the plastic bag, “I just-.” He is a warrior. He has trained under strict teachers for the majority of his life. _Why can’t he just ask this man for-?_

Jesse’s eyes drop down to the bag, “That what I think it is?” A slow, sexy smirk twitches across his mouth, “Cuz a fella only shows up with a paper bag if he’s injured or lookin’ for a good time.” Those eyes rake over Hanzo’s body like a caress and he shivers, “And you ain’t injured, sugar.”

Hanzo doesn’t think, he acts. His hands frame the sides of Jesse’s ridiculous beard and yanks him down. Their lips meet in a messy kiss that is more teeth and tongue than anything else. It is their first kiss and Hanzo wishes it were softer, more lips and soft sighs, but his body is burning. This arrangement will not be for gentle kisses and whispered words.

Jesse drags him in by his hips, prosthetic hand cold against the skin under Hanzo’s shirt. A whine comes unbidden from his throat as Jesse manhandles him and the bag still hanging from his arm, through the apartment. The cowboy takes the bag with a flourish when they enter the bedroom, tossing it onto the messy bed. His hand reaches greedily for Hanzo’s shirt and Hanzo allows it to be taken off and thrown to some unknown location in the bedroom. Jesse’s flesh hand cups his pec and slants his mouth over Hanzo’s again, a deep moan sending sparks down to Hanzo’s groin.

It is mind melting, the intensity that Jesse uses to strip him of his clothing. His eyes are focused on Hanzo in the darkness as he spins them around and puts himself on the bed. He crawls back on one hand, pulling Hanzo along with the other and he goes willingly. He is aching between his legs and Jesse’s own cock is standing straight up, eager for Hanzo to touch.

He doesn’t even bother continuing the rest of the way to Jesse’s mouth, no matter how it pouts when Hanzo’s nudges the cowboys hands away from his shoulders. He focuses on the beautiful cock he had his hands only a week ago, curved to Jesse’s belly and so very, very _big._

“You are glorious.” Hanzo murmurs, wrapping his hand around it and giving a most welcomed tug. Jesse’s groan is throaty and deep, a sound that comes from a man’s chest and the heat in Hanzo’s belly flares.

“Me?” Jesse laughs softly, “From where I’m sittin’ yer the glorious one here.” His fingers curl into the bedsheets at his hips, “You-uh-gonna do-.” Hanzo silences him with his mouth. The organ is warm and salty on his tongue and fills his mouth to bursting. A groan comes from his own chest at the taste and his fingers curl into the skin of Jesse’s thighs. The man himself cries out, cursing softly and his flesh hand tugs at the hair on Hanzo’s head. He can feel the tie come loose, sending the long locks tumbling over the left side of his face. It does not deter him. He continues the motions of his mouth, Jesse’s moans increasing and words slurring.

“Oh hell, Hanzo.” Jesse hisses, “God _damn_.”

Hanzo pulls slowly off, thumb rubbing the base of Jesse’s cock, “How do you want this?”

A nervous chuckle is his reply, “I didn’t think that far ahead-you want to-uh?” He’s stuttering over his words and Hanzo can’t help but smile at it. He reaches out for the paper bag and upends its contents beside Jesse’s hip.

“I have never had sex with a man.” Hanzo starts matter-of-factly, “I will take you.”

Jesse squeaks, “Y-yea okay.”

He warms the lube between his fingers, spreading Jesse’s legs to fit between them. His thighs are warm, dark skin covered in a layer of hair and Hanzo wants to presses kisses from hip to ankle. He sends the thought elsewhere as he dips his fingers behind Jesse’s balls to press against his perineum. The man sighs in anxious pleasure and Hanzo can feel the muscles in his legs begin to relax in preparation for what’s to come. He slips the first finger in slowly, but there is hardly any resistance and Hanzo’s eyes dart up to meet Jesse, whose face is ruddy with color.

“I was busy earlier.” He mumbles.

Arousal surges through Hanzo in a wave that he has never felt before and he slips two digits in with ease. Jesse keens under him, fingers curling into the sheets and the dip of his lower back arching away from the bed. He is a riveting sight and Hanzo’s drinks it in. The rounded sides of his hips, the stomach that’s not quite flat anymore, edges rough with age and weight.

He is the most beautiful man Hanzo has ever seen.

Three fingers seems to be enough for Jesse because he is soon begging. His fingers slip along Hanzo’s biceps, yanking him up. Hanzo does not resist and slides their cocks together in a warm, wet tug of skin.

The kiss they share is slow, a warm dip of tongues and soft sighs as Hanzo lifts Jesse’s knees over his elbows.

Jesse releases a harsh breath of hair as Hanzo enters him, slow, ever so slowly. His lips quiver under Hanzo’s own and he nips at the cowboys lower lip. When he is all the way inside, he takes a moment to control himself, orgasm bright at the edge. Jesse is warm and tight, squeezing Hanzo wonderfully. The thought of ‘why hadn’t I thought of doing this sooner’ filters through the lust and the overwhelming _want_ , but it doesn’t stay long.

Jesse is shifting his hips, pushing them back to meet Hanzo’s. He does not deny the man his pleasure.

The first thrust is agony, nerve endings fried and the edge so near. The second is easier, Jesse is letting out soft moans and whispers of ‘so good, god right there’ and Hanzo has never been more turned on.

It should not be so slow. It should be hard and frenzied and animalistic, like most sexual encounters in casual sex, but he can not find it in him to pick up the pace.

Jesse comes before him, face twisted in painful pleasure as he spills copious amounts of white fluid onto his stomach. Hanzo takes in the sight, come pooling in the hair and bellybutton of the writhing man beneath him. He joins Jesse in orgasm soon after, the pleasure leaving him breathless and shocked.

Warm amber eyes flutter open moments later and Jesse sends Hanzo a grin that speaks of the truly satisfied.

Hanzo is in trouble.

 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 

Jesse McCree has gotten laid a fair few times in his life. Starting in the boys showers in high school all the way to that one chick he met in Deadlock. But he has _never_ had an orgasm as encompassing and satisfying as the one Hanzo just gave him. For a man who's never given it to a fella, Hanzo sure played Jesse’s body like a violin.

Hanzo has since cleaned them both up and plugged his phone into the charger on the other side of the bed. Jesse watches him as he hovers at the edge, hair loose and looking as disheveled as Jesse himself probably feels.

“You gonna stay?” Jesse asks.

“I am aware that most….beneficial friends do not stay together.” Hanzo hesitates, “But it is quite late.”

Jesse lifts an eyebrow, “That what we are? Beneficial friends?”

Hanzo lets out a sigh, “I leave in a week. We can not be more than that.”

It’s disappointing, Jesse won’t lie to himself. However, he understands completely. Hanzo ain’t like Genji, who wanted adventure and a new place to call home.  Who wanted an _escape_. Hanzo likes his life and is eager to get back to it.

“Sure. We can be that.” He cups his hand into a gesture of ‘come’ and lifts the covers with his prosthetic hand, “Get in. It’s almost three.”

Hanzo joins him, body warm and strong as he scoots in closer to Jesse. Which, goddamn is the cutest thing Jesse’s ever seen and he grins as he throws an arm of Hanzo’s chest to snuggle up to his gorgeous pecs. Hanzo lets out an amused huff but Jesse can feel his fingers carding through Jesse’s hair.

He hums under the treatment, “Any luck with Genji?”

“None.” Hanzo replies, “I doubt I will have any. He is quite firm.”

“Guess being stubborn is a Shimada trait.” Jesse chuckles softly.

Hanzo tugs at his hair, “Silence. Sleep.”

Jesse grins and does.

He wakes a few hours later to the sound of his alarm and the phone ringing. His body is wrapped completely in the comforter and Hanzo isn’t in the bed. Jesse pushes himself to his elbows and squints around the room. Hanzo is standing a few feet away, Jesse’s sweats on and phone to his ear, hissing in Japanese.

He does not sound happy and Jesse frowns at the words grow heated and frustrated. He rolls out of bed and deigns to make a pot of coffee and see if that doesn’t lift Hanzo’s mood a bit.

The pot is just finishing its final drips when Jesse hears Hanzo’s feet pad into the kitchen. He turns to give Hanzo a grin, but it falls a little flat when he sees that Hanzo is wearing his own clothes and is just finishing up the finishing touches on his hair. He sends Jesse a sad smile.

“My apologies,” He begins, “That was my father.”

Jesse winces, “Figures.” He gestures to the coffee pot, “Want a cup before you leave?”

Hanzo shakes his head, “No. I must...take care of some business before I go in search of Genji today.” A frown mars his features, “I have left my father under the impression that I have not found Genji yet.”

Jesse’s blinks, “You-ya lied to him?”

“At a cost, it seems.” Hanzo murmurs, “I must go and take care of it.”

Jesse stands awkwardly in the kitchen with his mug, staring at Hanzo as he looks everywhere but at him. He looks on edge, shoulders tense. The man who fucked him so goddamn slowly last night is nowhere to be see and Jesse misses it.

He starts to pour a cup of coffee to keep his hands from reaching out and pulling the man in for a hug, “Well. If ya need me. I’ll be here.” He grins, “Or at work.”

“Noted.” Hanzo finally looks over at him, “Thank you.”

“Anytime, darlin’.”

Hanzo leaves a few minutes later and Jesse sags against the kitchen counter.

Goddamn.

_Goddamn it._

 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 

Genji can tell there is something bothering McCree. He can see it in the worried lines of his face and the troubled way both of his hands hang in the loops of his pants. You would think that a man who just got laid would be a bit happier, but alas.

“Something troubles you.” Genji pushes open the door to their favorite Thai restaurant. Jesse slips past him with a shrug.

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

Genji hums, “You say that, but your body language is telling a different story.”

Jesse sends him a playful sneer, “You just want to know if your brother actually came over last night.”

Genji mock gasps, “I do not need you to tell me. I know for a fact that he went.”

“Oh really?” Jesse snorts as they get in line to order, “Ain’t you two been apart for months? How would you know him that well?”

“I am his brother.” Genji rolls his eyes, “Hanzo is the same man he was the day he left, however,” He lifts a finger, “He threw his entire organized life out the window for a quick romp in the hallway with _you_.”

Jesse seems to bristle at that, “Hey-.”

“You!” Genji exclaims, waving at hand at Jesse’s cowboy hat and boot ensemble, “A man who dresses as though he has come straight out of a spaghetti western porn video!” he lets out a laugh now, “You are the last person I would ever imagine my brother with. So of _course_ I knew he would go to you.”

“That doesn’ make any sense.” Jesse seems to pout.

“Hanzo is a very difficult man, Jesse.” Genji shakes his head, “For you to make a difficult man, who prides himself on control, come to you in the middle of the night because he _wants_ to. Is nothing short of a miracle.”

Jesse stubbs the toe of his boot into the floor, “Yea, well. He’s very adamant about being ‘beneficial friends’.”

Genji eyes him, “You knew he would be going home, Jesse.”

“Yea.” Jesse grunts, “Still gonna be bummed that the greatest orgasm of my life is flying back to another country in a week.”

Genji makes a face, “Gross.”

Jesse grins at him, “You asked.”

They finish up their lunch after about an hour and Jesse can feel his phone vibrating in his pocket. Probably Torb telling him to get his ass back to work. He sends the his grouchy boss a ‘be there soon, finishing up luck’ before pocketing his phone and joining Genji back out onto the sidewalk.

As they’re making their way back to the bus stop where they usually part ways, Genji catches sight of four men at an outdoor coffee shop. He recognizes Hanzo first, dressed sharply in a dark suit and hair tied back perfectly. The other three are dressed similarly, of japanese decent and sends Genji’s blood running cold through his veins. He grabs Jesse by the arm and yanks them out of sight, back pressed to the brick of a wall.

“What the hell?” Jesse hisses.

“Those men.” Genji sucks in air, “Are-.” He is going to hyperventilate. They found him. Hanzo is going to tell them where he is and he will lose Zenyatta. His home. His-

“Breathe.” Jesse’s big hands grip his shoulders, “Breathe, Gen.”

He inhales sharply, “I am sorry.”

Jesse pokes his head out of their hiding spot for a moment, then comes back in to stare down at Genji once more, “Thugs of your fathers?”

Genji nods once, “Hanzo must be meeting to-.” He swallows, “To tell them where I am at.”

Jesse’s brow furrows, “Naw. Naw he wouldn’t do that to ya.”

“Oh he would.” Genji’s face twists into something sour and it rots in his stomach like acid, “He would.”

Jesse still doesn’t look as if he believes him. Genji doesn’t care, he needs to call Zen, he needs to hear his voice. He fumbles with his phone as he takes it out of his pocket. It rings a few times and goes to voicemail. Zen must be with a glass. Genji beats his head back against the wall.

“Fuck.”

“Breathe.” Jesse reminds him again, “I’m going to casually stroll and get us some coffee, yea?”

Genji frowns, “ _What_ you can’t just walk up, Hanzo will know it’s you!”

Jesse grins, “Good.”

 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 

The coffee shop is not usually busy near the lunch hour, people wanting actual food versus coffee, but there is still a line. So, with his hands in his pockets, he waits for his turn to order and tries desperately to hear the conversation going on a few feet away.

“As I have told you multiple times,” Hanzo’s voice does things to him, even if the man might be ruining his brothers life. Jesse tries to focus, “I have not found him yet. Father sending you three won’t help me find him any faster.”

“With all due respect, Shimada-sama, it would be quicker with more feet on the ground.” One replies formally.

Jesse wonders for a moment why none of them are speaking their native tongue. It seems odd, but he doesn’t pay it any mind, just quietly orders his coffee and goes to wait.

“You risk him running.” Hanzo snaps, “It is useless if he goes into hiding because you buffoons are tripping all over los angeles.”

One of the men bristles, “Shimada-sama, we must insist.”

“No. Father insists.” Hanzo snorts, “I still have a week to find him before you can take over.”

“We are only offering our services.”

“Your _services_ are not required at this moment.” Hanzo’s sneers, “Genji may not even be here. Why don’t you try one of the other cities nearby? For all we know, he may have fled when he noticed father’s first tracker.”

Jesse glances back in time to see the three men share a glance of resignation. Hanzo just bought Genji time. Holy shit.

He takes his coffee and with a tip of his hat and a short ‘thank you ma’am’, exits the with his spoils.

Genji is still waiting for him when he gets there, he hands the green-haired man one of the coffees, “You were wrong. I was right.”

Genji frowns, “What do you mean?”

“Hanzo was taking them off your scent.” Jesse grins, “Looks like your papa is getting suspicious of Hanzo and sent some lackeys to ‘help.”

“Not good news.” Genji mutters.

Jesse grins, “At least Hanzo took care of it.”

Genji lets out a laugh, “That he did.”

Jesse can feel his phone vibrating again and with a wince he realizes he was epically late for work.

“Gotta go.” He pats Genji’s shoulder, “Take the back way to the studio, yea?”

Jesse bolts after Genji nods and rushes for the bus stop.

He makes it to work just in time for Torb to ream him for being over two hours late. Jesse takes the beating like a man and doesn’t explain why he was so late.

He ends up staying two hours later to work on a car as punishment and by the time he’s trudged home, he’s aching all over. He waves to Gabriel, who is scowling at the mailbox, and makes his way to the staircase.

“Your friend is waiting for you.” Gabriel snorts, “He’s been there for about an hour.”

Jesse perks up slightly and climbs the stairs just a little bit fast.

Sure enough, Hanzo is leaning against the wall, still in his suit and peering down at his phone with the utmost concentration. He looks gorgeous under the shitty hallway lights, not a hair out of place and suit smooth to the lines of his body. Jesse can see the sharp blue of his tattoo peeking from the edge of the sleeve and it sends a thrill through him to know he has seen the entirety of that work of art.

“Back so soon?” Jesse asks.

Hanzo glances up sharply, “You were at the coffee shop.”

Jesse tips his hat and unlocks his door, “That I was.”

“ _Eavesdropping.”_ Hanzo hisses.

“Got me there, darlin’.” He sets his hat on the table in the foyer and leads the two of them further into his apartment. Hanzo shuts the door with a click and Jesse wants nothing more than a shower and his bed.

“Why?” Hanzo insists.

“Well,” Jesse walks to the bathroom, shedding his grease and oil stained shirt along the way, “Genji and I went to get lunch and he saw ya’ll.”

Hanzo’s surprised look goes to sad too quickly, “Did he think-.”

“Yup.” Jesse toes off his boots, “First thing he thought of I reckon.”

Hanzo looks properly upset now, arms wrapping around his stomach in defense, “I told him I would not-.”

Jesse waves a hand, “He’s spooked, yea? You showing up outta the blue and such.”

“I do not go back on my word.” Hanzo snaps, “He is obviously happier here than at home.” He waves a hand angrily, “Nothing I saw will change his mind.”

“O’ course not.” Jesse sighs irritably, “He’s in _love_ and he’s happy. You and yer little pawn men are here to take that away. He’s gonna fight, Hanzo.” He shakes his head and flips on the shower, “And it’s gonna be ugly if it comes to that.”

Hanzo lets out a weary sigh, “I did not mean to get upset.”

Jesse lets out a laugh, “Me, calming down two distraught brothers in one day. And I ain’t even getting a threesome outta it.”

Hanzo wrinkles his nose, “That is vulgar.”

Jesse winks, “Do I get somethin’ outta it?” He wiggles his eyebrows and Hanzo lets out an exasperated sigh.

He eyes Jesse from the door to the bathroom, “Turn off the shower.”

Jesse blinks, “Wha-?”

Hanzo’s grin is predatory as he reaches into the room and snags Jesse’s hands, “You are going to fuck me like this.” His hands glide up Jesse’s arms, over his shoulders, and down over the hairy expanse of his chest.

Oh hell.

Oh _hell_.

He is in so much trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More juicy plot points and stuff in the next chapter. 
> 
> You won't like it and it will take a little bit of time for an update because it's going to be big. 
> 
> So prepare yourselves.


	5. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as you've probably noticed, I put a question mark in the chapter spot. This is turning out longer than I intended, so I decided to change it just in case. 
> 
> I started exploring Yakuza!Hanzo in this chapter and I honestly want more of him. Because he ends up so soft in the future and I want you to see the change in him and Jesse both. 
> 
> _Enjoy_

 

 

**Five**

 

Jesse isn’t sure he should be here. Hell, he’d much rather be back at his apartment, where a very attractive foreigner is currently curled up under his sheets. Instead, his boots are clicking ominously across the shitty linoleum floor of the most recent Deadlock hideout. 

The walls are bare, white paint peeling and the flaking to the floor below. He passes empty rooms, some filled with old office equipment, others with Deadlock’s wares. Illegal weapons, boxes probably filled to the brim with every drug imaginable. He tsks to himself as he looks away to focus on the task at had. He was here for one reason only: to get  _ her _ off his scent. 

By the time he gets to the last room, its number had been scrawled on a thin sheet of toilet paper someone left at his door, he’s nervous. His hand shakes as he hovers over the handle that leads him right back where he started - a lowlife with no future, too big for his britches. 

He takes a sharp breath, lets it out slowly, thinks of the man in his bed. Hanzo had looked damn good with his head on Jesse’s pillow, tattooed arm shoved underneath it, chest rising and falling in slumber. He’d gone out to pick up the paper and there was the note, address to the compound and room number in chicken scratch. 

How the fuck they found out where he lived was frightening. 

Hanzo had mumbled sleepily when Jesse pressed a kiss to his neck and told him he’d be back soon. Fuck, he wished he’d told Hanzo the truth, maybe brought him as backup. The elder Shimada  _ was _ the son of a crime lord. He contemplates texting the man for a split second before shaking his head.

No. This was his tie to cut off.

He twists the knob and pushes the door open with a burst of confidence he has to dig real deep to find. 

She’s sitting at a desk near a back window, older than she was all those years ago. Wrinkles line her face and her dark hair is streaked in gray, but the sharp lines of her face are still scary. She glances up at him from the paper in hand and the two guards at her side raise their shitty imported assualt rifles at Jesse’s head.

“Oh stand down.” She waves at them, “Morons.” A grin splits her face, “Welcome back Jesse.”

Jesse frowns, “McCree.”

A dark eyebrow raises, “So formal.”

“This is a formal meeting, ma’am.” He tips his hat as condescendingly as possible. The grin fades to a scowl in an instant.

“It actually isn’t.” She leans back in her chair, tee-peeing her fingers over the desk, “I have a job for you,  _ McCree. _ ”

“And I politely decline,  _ Marlene. _ ”

A bark of laughter leaves her, head thrown back and wrinkles accentuated. He curls his hands into fists and wishes he had his gun with him just so he could stop her  _ laughing. _

“You can’t tell me  _ no _ .” The sound dies off and she keeps her grin on him, eyes sharp, “I own you McCree, no matter where you run off too or where your cockroach ass hides, I will find you.” Her nails click agasint the wood of the desk, “So. When I say I have a job for you, your answer should be ‘yes ma’am’.”

He swallows, “It’s been ten years since I left ya’lls sorry asses behind.”

“Seven, actually.” She grins, “You did help us with that problem down in Cozumel.” 

Jesse’s stomach churns unpleasantly. That ‘problem’ had been taking out the mayor of a tiny town out west because he didn’t want to lend political power in moving weapons past the border. It had taken Ana two years to make sure that shit stayed buried. Jesse still couldn’t leave the united states after that incident, no matter how hard she tried. 

When he’d promised to go straight, she’d believed him. She’d cupped his face like his own mama would have and given him a smile that spoke of a trust Jesse didn’t feel he deserved at the time. Reyes had followed soon after, patting him on the shoulder before his deployment and telling him how proud he was that Jesse was turning over a new leaf. 

Feels like yesterday.

“I ain’t helping you.” He shakes his head, “I ain’t going to jail for you morons.”

She waves her hand, “Psh. I can keep you out of jail, McCree, you know that.”

No, he doesn’t know that. 

He knows that she’s willing to murder innocent men in cold blood to get what she wants. Jesse ain’t no exception to that rule. He’s already toeing the line talking to her the way he is now.

“You have one of two choices.” She puts the first finger up, “You can do this job and come back, I’ll get you a nicer place, you’ll be rolling in money, hon.” The other one flips up, “Or I can put you six feet under right now and your precious  _ Amari _ wouldn’t be able to find you with a bloodhound.” She grins, “Your choice.” 

“He has a new keeper now.” One of the guards snicker, “Some asian fellow.”

Marlene’s eyebrows go up and Jesse feels the nausea roil. Fucking shit. Of course they’ve been watching him. They know where he lives, they know that Hanzo has been sneaking into Jesse’s room since the middle of the goddamn week. 

“Not like you to take a lover, McCree.” Marline sneers.

He returns the look, “That ain’t what he is. He’ll be outta the country by next week.” He points at her, “This ain’t about him though. This is about me telling you to go fuck yourself.”

Her fingers curl into a fist against the desktop and he can see the way her nails dig into the flesh, “McCree, you do not want to test me.”

Jesse snarls, “First you send a  _ weasel _ to do yer dirty work, then you stalk me, leave creepy ass notes at my house and now you’re threatening a total  _ stranger _ just to get me to go back into this shithole of an organization?” He flicks a hand at her, “Ya’ll ain’t as big as you think you are anymore. There are bigger fish out there than yer puny asses.”

Her face twists into a scowl, “You’re testing my patience, Jesse.”

“ _ McCree _ .” He snaps, “You don’t get to call me by my name.” 

She snorts and waves, “Kill him.”

“Apologies, am I interrupting something?” 

Jesse spins around like a whip, eyes wide as he takes in the sight of Hanzo standing in the doorway, knuckles twisted to knock against the old wood. He’s in the same suit he wore to intercept Genji’s trackers, but there’s a golden ribbon tying his hair back and the look on his face sends a shiver of fear down Jesse’s spine. 

This isn’t the Hanzo he left in his bed this morning. This isn’t the same man who argued with him over the toppings of a pizza at two in the morning. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Marlene snarls, “Shoot him too.”

“Shimada.” Hanzo’s tone is clipped and the blood drains from Marlene’s face as he steps past Jesse and closer to her desk. He wears arrogance like a cloak as he runs his fingers over the paperwork on the desk.

Jesse has never seen fear in Marlene’s eyes.

“I wasn’t aware that Sojiro had assets on the west coast.” Her bottom lip quivers.

“Not usually.” Hanzo murmurs, flicking a sheet out of the way, “My father sent me here on family business.” His eyebrows go up at something he sees on the sheet and his eyes fall on her pityingly, “Having some financial issues, Miss Clyde?”

“Course not!” She snarls, reaching out and snatching the papers from under Hanzo’s wandering hands. 

Jesse watches as Hanzo stares down his nose at her, as if she’s  _ dirt _ . Less than dirt actually. 

“Do you think your measly sum of money could outmatch what  _ I’m _ paying him?” Hanzo snorts derisively. 

Holy shit. Holy  _ shit. _

“I wasn’t aware that he was employed by the Shimada clan.” Marlene grits out. 

“Hm.” Hanzo turns from her, “Your ‘weasels’ should do better scouting next time.” 

“Now wait a minute.” She stands up, pointing angrily at his back. Hanzo’s eyes meet Jesse’s and he sees curiosity in them. Anger. A little bit of nerves. “He was mine before you hired him you-you-.”

Hanzo snaps around, “You can have him back when I no longer require his services.” He waves a hand at her, “He is my bodyguard for the duration of my time here. Then he’s all yours.” He flicks two fingers at Jesse and motions to follow, “McCree, with me.”

Jesse straightens slightly and nods, “Yes sir. Sorry sir.” He quickly follows Hanzo out the door and into the hallway. 

By the time they reach Hanzo’s rental car, Jesse doesn’t know whether to jump Hanzo’s bones or shout in his face about how  _ dangerous _ that fucking was. Hanzo unlocks the car and climbs inside, Jesse joins him, folding his hands in his lap as the car vibrates to a start beneath him. Hanzo steers them from where he street parked the car and rolls lazily down the road. 

“Uh-.”

“Don’t speak yet.” Hanzo mutters.

Jesse’s eyes narrow, “Hey now. I ain’t really workin’ for you. Tell me what the fuck is going on.”

Hanzo turns a glare on him, “Do you realize how  _ dangerous _ that was? You could have died, Jesse!” 

“I had it under control!” Jesse shouts, “How the hell did you find me anyway?”

Hanzo sneers, “You left the message it on the kitchen counter.” 

Well shit. He winces, “Oh.”

“Oh?” Hanzo snarls, “ _ Oh? _ She almost shot you right there and-.”

“Do you know how many times that woman has threatened to kill me, Hanzo?” Jesse shakes his head, tossing his arms out in irritation, “At least twenty times over the last ten years. She hasn’t ever gone through with it.”

“That is not the  _ point _ .” Hanzo hisses. 

“And you!” Jesse points to him, “How is  _ Deadlock _ afraid of  _ yer _ family?”

Hanzo sends him a condescending look, “My father’s empire expands further than your silly american gang.”

“Silly american-.” Jesse laughs weakly, “Hanzo I killed people.”

“So have I.” Hanzo sighs, “So has  _ Genji _ .” His hands tighten around the steering wheel, “Genji has found a way to escape it and I am-.” He sighs and a soft smile tugs at his lips, “I am glad for him.” He tosses a sad look Jesse’s way, “It is why I can not stay longer. I have been groomed to take over my father’s empire and I must return home to do it.” 

Jesse leans back against the seat and sighs, “What am I supposed to do once you leave? To keep them off of my tail?”

“I’ll will figure something out.” Hanzo hums, “Pull some strings if I can.” 

“Darlin’,” Jesse grins at him and Hanzo chuckles at the name, “I have never been so glad to be sleeping with a crime lord.” 

  
  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 

“Hanzo had to rescue Jesse from his old gang.” Genji mutters as he types furiously on his cellphone. He knows Zenyatta is listening, even from where he is washing the morning dishes in the kitchen. The apartment still smells like eggs and the tea Genji steeped during his morning meditation. 

“Are they alright?” Zenyatta asks, a note of alarm in his tone.

Genji glances up from where he’s leaning against the the counter. Zenyatta’s arms are covered in bubbles and a dishrag is hanging limp in his fist. Genji smiles and sidles up to the sink, “They’re fine. Hanzo’s bringing them back to Jesse’s now.”

“That is good.” He returns to washing the dishes, humming a soft tune. Genji relaxes into it, leaning his arm into Zen’s and continuing his conversation with Jesse. He’s never been so at peace in his life. For years he hated living in the compound, always watched and always strictly disciplined. Hanzo had taken to it so well, ever the obedient son. Genji fought tooth and nail, biting and scratching his way out from under the smothering control of their father. 

“I don’t know how Hanzo does it.” He mutters.

“With great difficulty, I imagine.” Zenyatta replies, setting a dish on the counter to dry, “While I disagree with how your family treated you, did you ever ask him how he felt through it all?”

Genji frowns and looks up from his phone, “What?”

Zen’s patient eyes meet his, “Did you ever ask Hanzo how he felt? I have heard your side. Did you never ask him?”

No.

He hadn’t. 

He’d always assumed Hanzo just…..wanted it. Hanzo was the eldest and it was his  _ job _ to follow in their father’s footsteps.

“I will take that as a no.” Zen dries his hands off on a towel and cups Genji’s cheek, “My dear, you are a very selfish individual.”

“ _ Hey _ .” He protests weakly, but he knows. Zenyatta is always right and always wise in his observations. Genji had been selfish.

Zenyatta presses a kiss to Genji’s lips and sighs, “You will still join me at the garden today?” 

Genji grins into the kiss, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. They’re releasing the blue ones today, right?”

“ _ Morpho peleides _ .” Zenyatta sighs with an eyeroll and parts from Genji with a tap to his cheek, “You know what they are called.” He steps away, bare feet making no noise across the kitchen tile as he walks towards their bedroom.

“I don’t keep track of your weird butterfly fetish, Zen!” Genji calls out.

He waits patiently as Zenyatta gets dressed and fifteen minutes later they’re catching a bus to the local butterfly garden. The lady at the front desk of the history museum gives them a cheery wave and greets Zenyatta with easy familiarity. 

Zenyatta leads him through the museum and out a door. A girl is wandering through the garden, refilling the fruits in the bowls around the flowers and bushes. There are some others mosing about inside, but they’re snapping photos and reading the plaques near clusters of roaming butterflies. 

“Hey. This is where you took me on our first date.” Genji grins over at Zenyatta. The grin falls to a frown as he spots the nervous look on Zen’s face. His fingers are twirling together as they walk to the center of the garden and Genji has a sudden sinking feeling in his gut. 

“It is.” Zen whispers, “I remember it well.” He’s dodging. Genji can’t breathe. He swallows down the dread because Zen is exactly the type of person to return to the start to end something. He looks back the door and wonders if bolting out and crying would seem too dramatic. He  _ is  _ being dramatic. 

They come to a rest near the center of the garden, yellow flowers in full bloom surrounding them. The entire garden smells rich and butterflies flutter past them, wings like soft kisses against cheeks and clothes. 

Zenyatta stands in front of Genji, looking up at him with trepidation. Genji’s stomach is in knots, he just told Hanzo he didn’t want to leave. Zenyatta  _ just _ made love to him and begged him not to go. “I have something I must tell you.” Zen says.

“Y-yea. Okay.” Genji tries on a smile.

Zenyatta takes a deep breath, “I am leaving for Nepal in a month.”

Genji’s world bottoms out. A sledgehammer to the gut. “ _ What? _ ” It doesn’t come out in english and Zenyatta startles at bit at the change in language. 

No.  _ No no no. _

“Ho-how long will you be gone?” Genji can’t keep his smile up, he feels like he’s going to vomit.

Zenyatta looks puzzled for a moment, mouth open to speak, but the girl who refilled the fruit starts talking. They both turn to look at her, the other people in the garden watching as a few workers bring out three large boxes. In a matter of minutes the garden is filled with brilliant blue butterflies, the sunlight glancing off of their wings. 

Genji watches as they drift past, gathering around Zenyatta’s head. He stares into Zen’s eyes and his throat tightens. He looks so beautiful, more than what Genji deserves. 

“I am happy for you.” He manages, croaking around the words and hating that  _ this _ is where Zen wanted to tell him-

“Oh dearest.” Zenyatta’s hands reach out and press against the sides of his face. The affection strangles a cry out of him, but Zen isn’t through, “Oh my beautiful green dragon.” A smile tilts at Zenyatta’s mouth, “I want you to come with me.” 

Oh.  _ OH _ .

Genji lets out a wet laugh, “Of course you do.”

The butterflies surround them and the scent is intoxicatingly sweet and Genji is  _ happy _ . He closes his eyes as Zenyatta rises to his toes to kiss him soundly. They kiss for minutes, he whines against Zen’s mouth and sighs when his hands drag through his hair. 

He presses his forehead to Zen’s, eyes still closed, “I thought you were leaving me behind.”

Zen gasps, “Never. I could not bear to be apart from you.” 

Genji’s heart flutters like the butterflies around them, “And I you.”

  
  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  


Hanzo watches at the sun sets outside of Jesse’s living room window. The man himself is paying the delivery guy at the front door, dressed only in blue jeans and probably grinning like a fool. He glances towards the foyer as Jesse’s feet patter back. He’s holding two bags of chinese and Hanzo is  _ starving _ . 

Not just for the food either.

He clears the coffee table of magazines and old beer bottle to make room for the food. 

“You gonna stay the night again?” Jesse asks, pulling white boxes from the depths of each bag. 

Hanzo regards him for a moment. He had not planned on staying with Jesse again after his first midnight romp. However, the cowboy was not so easy to get out of his system and after catching him snooping in on his conversation with his father’s hired guns, he had found himself yet again at Jesse’s apartment. Not only that, but in his bed, with dirty hands gliding down the pale expanse of his skin. 

_ Working _ hands. Hands that were stained with oil and left dark, dirty marks all over Hanzo’s skin. He was not ashamed of it. Jesse was an excellent lover and Hanzo held no reservations about his first time being taken by a man whose hands left black handprints on his hips after they were done fucking. 

“If you want me to.” Is his reply and Jesse’s grin is blinding.

“Darlin’, hard to say no to a man who gives such lovely orgasms.”

Hanzo shoves at his shoulder, “You are crass.”

Jesse grins around his fork of noodles, “You like it.”

That he does, Hanzo smiles and scoops up his own box of food and begins to eat. Jesse is everything his father warned him not to look for in a person. Direct. Honest. Loyal. Beautiful on the inside as well as the outside. 

“So.” Jesse swallows his noodles, “You said you’ve been-what? Groomed to take over after your dad?”

Hanzo nods, “Yes. I have been trained in various forms of martial arts, archery, and different business classes.” He attempts to search for the orange chicken, “Genji took the to sword and I took to the bow. Our father is very traditional with his weapons. The guard use guns of course, but the descendants are given a series of tradition weapons to choose from when we come of age.”

“Ugh,” Jesse groans, “That sounds so old fashioned isn’t this like the 20th century or somethin’?” 

Hanzo rolls his eyes, “The Yakuza does not care for the modernization of the people outside.”

“I dunno. Bow vs gun doesn't seem very fair.”

Hanzo smirks, “You have never seen me with a bow.”

Jesse blinks, “That sounds hot.”

Hanzo pinches him and he yelps, “It is a traditional form of combat.” 

“Yea yea.” Jesse slaps the pinching hand away, “Guess that explains all of-.” He waves to Hanzo’s body and Hanzo glances down at himself. He frowns.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Jesse waves to him again, “Yer so fit! I ain’t never seen anyone so goddamn gorgeous and fit in my life.”

Hanzo flushes under the praise and glances down at the white shirt and sweatpants Jesse let him change into when he requested wanting out of his suit. He knew he was in shape, but of course pride in one’s body was fine, but Hanzo was not one to care about a  _ body. _

“You are fit as well.” He tilts his head.

Jesse shakes his head, “Nu-uh.” He slaps his stomach and Hanzo frowns, “I’ve put on some weight over the last couple of years. I ain’t as fit and fiddle as I used to be, sugar.” He gives Hanzo a weak grin, “Used to be, long time ago.”

“You think so little of yourself,” Hanzo begins, “Why?”

Jesse shrugs, “Not that. I just know that age catches up and metabolism is a heartless bitch.” 

“I’m thirty Jesse.” Hanzo shakes his head, “I know age well.”

“Yea.” Jesse pouts, “But you’ve got years worth of training on yer side. You won’t be losing that anytime soon.”

They finish their meal in silence, Hanzo’s family forgotten. However, he can not shake Jesse’s insecurity. They blatant way he dismisses his body. 

Do not get involved, He tells himself, it is dangerous enough that you are still here. 

He watches Jesse take a swig from his bottle of coke and dig in for another slice of pepper steak. Jesse is utterly chaotic. He is a whirlwind of thick accents and cowboy boots and tantalizing dark skin. 

Hanzo has never wanted another human being so much.

He stands abruptly and puts out his hand, “Come with me.”

Jesse stares at the hand for a moment before those amber eyes glance up to meet Hanzo’s, “I’m still eatin’.”

Hanzo gives him a smile and gently prys the take-out from his hands, “You will not regret this, I promise.”

“Ooookay.” Jesse eyes him suspiciously and allows Hanzo to lead him out of the living room and into the bedroom. 

Jesse is already missing his shirt, so Hanzo wastes no time in pressing his hands to the barrel of his chest, fingers skimming flesh like a kiss. He pushes once and the back of Jesse’s legs hit the edge of the bed and he tumbles backwards. The cowboy is staring at him with mild curiosity and Hanzo leans forward to spread his jean-clad legs gently, running them up to his hips.

“You are magnificent.” Hanzo mutters, eyeing the hair on his chest and the way it inhales sharply at his words. The dark, coarse fur lead down to the rim of Jesse’s jeans, where the rounded edges of his hips begged to be bitten. He does so quickly, sinking his teeth into the pudgy flesh and relishing in the sharp gasp Jesse releases. 

“What are you-?” 

“Shhh.” Hanzo presses a kiss to the abused flesh and sinks to his knees. He makes quick work of unbuttoning Jesse’s pants, pulling his half-hard cock from the confines of his underwear. Hanzo nuzzles it gently, holding it with one hand while the other caresses the freshly bitten flesh at Jesse’s hip. 

“Killin’ me.” Jesse’s voice is breathy and wonderful, Hanzo licks a stripe up his cock and a low whine is his reward. “What’s the occasion?” 

“You are a beautiful man, Jesse McCree.” Hanzo mutters against the flesh of his dick, it twitches in his grasp and he lays an open mouthed kiss to the vein on the underside, “I only wish I could spend more days than I have left to worship your body.”

Jesse lets out a laugh that borderlines nervous and aroused, “I ain’t worth all that.”

Hanzo nips sharply and a hiss escapes Jesse, hips tilting into it, “I say you are.”

“N-not supposed to get atta-.” 

Hanzo engulfs the first half with his mouth and Jesse moans, elbows dropping back to the bed and head tilted towards the headboard. His hips rise and fall minutely under Hanzo’s hands and he hums around the cock in his mouth. It is as glorious as it was the first time he took it in, hard and soft in equal measure. Jesse smells like sweat and the cologne he wears, but the scent between his legs is so concentrated Hanzo’s insides shiver at the smell. His own cock aches between his legs, but he continues to pet the fat at Jesse’s hips, to caress the swell of his stomach and the undefined muscles of his chest. 

Jesse moans helplessly beneath him, babbling about what he doesn’t deserve and that Hanzo is too good for him. Too much. Rescuing him and invading his bed and being too much all at once. Hanzo knows he should block out the feeling, that all encompassing fall that if he allowed himself, could be the end of old life. It would destroy everything he has worked for, all for a man he’s known a mere two weeks.

Jesse lets out an agonized shout and comes down Hanzo’s throat in soft, easy pulses. He swallows him easily, letting the softening cock fall from his mouth as he stares up at Jesse’s wrecked face.

“That was-.” Jesse pants and Hanzo  _ knows. _

He knows he will never forget this man.

  
  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  


Jesse finds himself in the hallway at three am, puffing away at a cigarette and staring aimlessly into the ugly wallpaper across from him. 

He’s still reeling from the blow job, Hanzo’s words, the intensity of his orgasm. He bashes his head back against the wall.

“You look strung out.” Fareeha appears at the top of the stairs, “Or maybe it’s all the good sex?” She offers him a grin, but he doesn't return it and she lets out a sigh. “Something else then?”

“‘M an idiot.” Jesse mumbles. 

She plops down next to him, still in her work uniform and steals the cig from his hands. They pass it back and forth for a few moments before she asks, “This about your new friend?”

“Not entirely.” He shrugs, “I’m never gonna get rid of them, am I?” He looks over at her and she gives him a pained shake of her head. She isn’t stupid, she knows he’s talking about Deadlock. Her moma spent a lot of time drilling how terrible the Deadlocks were while Fareeha was growing up. Jesse only wishes he had been around to hear those lectures.

“There is a chance that you may never shake them, Jesse.” 

He closes his eyes, “I just want to rest.”

“Well.” She says, “No rest for the wicked.”

He snorts, “Ha ha.”

“Hey. This is the not where club meetings are held.” Gabriel’s voice makes Jesse crack an eye open. The man looks worse for wear, but he’s wearing a grin, carrying a bag of food in one hand and to Jesse’s disappointment, too much alcohol in the other.

Fareeha waves at him, “Oh come off it, Reyes. Let us youngins gossip in the halls.”

“You’re the youngest one here, brat.” Reyes sneers, “What’s with the pitty party in the hallway?”

“Deadlock being gnats.” Fareeha explains.

Gabriel frowns, “Again? They’re being more persistent than usual.”

“She had a job for me.” Jesse mutters.

“A job?” Gabriel growls, “Did you take it?”

Jesse scowl up at him, offended, “Of fucking course not.”

“How did you get out  _ alive _ ?” Fareeha gasps, staring at him with wide eyes, “She isn’t exactly known to be merciful.”

Jesse rubs the back of his head, “Hanzo kinda rescued me.”

“Your hallway friend?” Gabriel asks.

“Stop callin’ him that!” Jesse slaps a hand to his face, “Goddamn.”

“Hey. I’m not the exibistionist here.”

“So mom  _ was _ right.” Fareeha whistled, “Your Shimada friend is  _ the  _ Shimada.”

“Yeeeeup.” Jesse nods, “Got us out by the skin of his teeth. He’s real natural. Marlene was  _ afraid _ of him.” 

“Jesse you need to get out of this.” Fareeha insists, “Go stay with mom. Her place is more secure. She can find a way to get you out of this.”

“No.” Jesse snaps, “I’m not putting any of you in danger too. I fucked up and put myself into the mess.”

“What kind of job?” Gabriel interrupts.

“I dunno,” Jesse scrubs a hand through his hair, “But it’s big. She’s losing money, Hanzo noticed it while he was there. It’s so big she needs  _ me  _ back.”

Gabriel sighs, “She needs your ‘skills’ you mean.”

“No.” Fareeha grabs his bicep, “No Jesse.”

“I stopped being her undertaker seven years ago, Gabe. I ain’t doing it again.”

Gabriel points a finger at him, “And don’t you fucking forget that. You stick to that mindset and steer clear of them.”

“You don’t need to tell me twice.”

The three of them part ways after another cigarette is shared and Jesse crawls back into bed beside Hanzo. He traces the outline of the dragon on Hanzo’s arm, the mark of his family and the proof of his status in his clan. He remembers the looks he gave Marlene, how cruel he was when he spoke to her. 

“Am I safe with you?” He whispers into the skin.

Hanzo doesn’t reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have absolutely no idea what anyone's names are in Deadlock. 
> 
> In other news, Hanzo worshiping Jesse is my JAM, okay? I just. Jesse deserves to be loved and told he's beautiful.
> 
> I hope ya'll enjoyed. I know this is dragging but I promise it gets good soon. There's just so much I want in here and I want to share it.
> 
> Thank you for your support and the comments and kudos and encouragement. You're all amazing!


	6. Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Enjoy_

**Six**

 

 

Angry does not even being to cover what Hanzo is feeling as he sits across from Genji at a booth in Marie’s diner. It laces through him like a poison, quick and sharp, burning down his throat as his brother rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. Genji is just sitting there, eyes averted, green hair slicked back from a recent shower, most likely after one of his ‘classes’. 

He had requested that they meet alone and now Hanzo knows why. 

His fists clench over his thighs, curling into the fabric of his pants, “I did not come all of this way for you to move  _ further _ away.” 

Genji ducks his head, “Hanzo, you already knew I wasn’t coming home with you.”

Hanzo closes his eyes and prays for patience, “Genji. No matter where you hide, father will find you.” When he opens them again, Genji is finally staring back at him, “It will not be me that he sends next time.” 

Genji pokes at his waffles, “Not if you don’t tell him where I am going.”

The request sinks in Hanzo’s belly like lead. He can feel the weight increase on his shoulders each passing second. More lying to their father, more expectations. And at the end of it, still no Genji to take home with him. 

Hanzo wants to disappear. 

His phone vibrates at his hip and he reaches for it, flicking the screen open with his thumb.

_ Jesse: Gotta thing to show you tonight. You free? _

“You know,” Genji begins, “You can always tell father to go fuck himself and stay here with Jesse.”

Hanzo’s fingers clench around the phone, “You know I can not do that.” He lets out a soft sigh, wants nothing more than to tell Jesse ‘yes’. Yes yes-over and over again just so he can see Jesse’s smile and the imaginary tail wag that accompanies all of Jesse’s happy faces.  However, he knows that the duty to his family is far more important than a small fling with an american man. 

He types in ‘yes’ anyway, there is no harm in another evening with the man. 

The phone slips back into his pocket and he returns his gaze to Genji, who has scarfed down the rest of his waffles. Genji looks less upset now and more frustrated. He stabs at what remains of his eggs, causing the yolk to run like a river across his plate.

Hanzo sighs, “You can not escape forever.”

“I don’t want to escape anymore.” Genji hisses, “I want him to leave me alone.”

“When do you plan to stop being  _ selfish _ ?” Hanzo snaps, he sets his fork down with a loud clatter, “When do you plan on thinking about someone besides yourself?”

Genji’s face twists, “That’s not fair, Hanzo!” 

“Not fair?” Hanzo intones, “ _ Not fair _ ?” He pushes out of the table angrily, standing over it as he pulls a few bills from his wallet and tosses them on the table, “Not fair was what  _ I _ had to endure while you ran all over Hanamura. Not fair was our father seeing  _ you _ as a bigger priority even though  _ I am the heir. _ ” He points a finger at Genji’s face, “You never cared what I was required to do. You never thought of  _ me. _ It was always I who had to care for  _ you _ .” 

“Hanzo-.” Genji tries, but Hanzo puts up a hand to stop him.

“I will keep your location secret.” Hanzo mutters, “But that is the end.” He turns away slowly, “I am going home at the end of the week. Should father find you, remember that me bringing you home would have been the better option.” 

He leaves the restaurant with the little bell above the door ringing his departure. The sky is murky and dark, perfect for his mood, he supposes. Genji’s muted calls for him fall to deaf ears as he makes his way back to the rental car. 

Once inside, he grips the steering wheel tight, closes his eyes. 

His ringer goes off and a sick feeling swirls around in his stomach. His father’s ringtone. 

“ _ Hello father. _ ” He greets in as much of a monotone as possible. 

“ _ I have found him. _ ” The words drip anger and Hanzo’s insides twist even more. He can’t breathe. He looks up through the windshield to make sure Genji is still inside the diner. The shock of green that is his brothers hair is still bent over his plate of food.

“ _ In the city? _ ” Hanzo tries to sound confused, surprised, “ _ I have been to every yoga studio in the immediate area.”  _

His father’s snort is derisive, degrading, “ _ You have failed me again, Hanzo. _ ”

Hanzo wants to scream-to  _ demand _ to know how is father found Genji so quickly. He had thrown the goons off of Genji’s scent, he had been  _ careful _ -how?

His father rattles off the name of Genji and Zenyatta’s studio, but does not say how he found out. Gives nothing away as to who his informant was in the first place and it burns Hanzo to his core. 

“ _ Make sure he is on that plane with you Friday.” _ It is a threat, Hanzo wants to cry, “ _ Bring him or face the consequences, Hanzo.” _

Hanzo presses his forehead to the steering wheel, “ _ Yes, father. _ ”

 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  


Deep in the bowels of a diesel engine, Jesse is planning his evening with Hanzo. His hands are slick with grease and the damn bolt on the left side of the engine refuses to come loose, but at least it gives him time to think. Dream. Imagine. 

Hanzo had treated him so right the other evening and goddamn Jesse ain’t never had someone go down on him with such focus before. The other man deserves a night in LA to be a perfect one. 

“You’re humming again, my friend.” Zarya laughs from behind him and Jesse can picture her, hands on her hips and head tipped to the side. 

“‘M ina good mood.” Jesse replies, voice muffled due to his head being inside an engine block. 

“We have noticed.” She replies and from the corner of his eye he sees her lean against the side of the truck. There’s a grin a mile wide on her face, arms crossed over the shiny blue paint. 

Jesse lifts his head slowly, eyebrow lifted, “What?”

“You look much happier than you did a few weeks ago.” Her grin sombers just slightly, “Will you be alright when he has to leave?”

No, Jesse thinks.

Because he’s spent that last two weeks with this man. Two wonderful weeks of late night fast food binges and amazing sex. The silent way he cares about his brother, the steadfast loyalty to a family that continuously treats him like shit. The way he worshiped Jesse like he was some kind of God and his body a shrine. 

“No.” He admits, returning to his task of loosening a bolt that refuses to cooperate, “But it’s his choice. He’s gotta life back in Japan. I’m not in his future plan.”

“A shame.” Zarya mutters. 

Jesse just shrugs, “It’s life. I ain’t his forever person and he ain’t mine. Things like this happen, Zar.”

She lets out a hum in response and he listens as she walks back to her own work. The clank of a few tools is his only clue to her setting back to removing the starter from whichever car she took on. 

He stares at the bolt, stubborn and refusing to budge. Sorta like Genji, who looked at Hanzo and refused to go home, even though it would mean running for his entire life. Or like Hanzo, who can’t and won’t turn away from the family that’s controlling him. 

He sets his wrench a little tighter, tugs a little harder and it loosens just a bit. Only a bit and he presses his forehead to the engine head. 

_ Focus on this night with him.  _

Jesse can do that yea, he can. He yanks on the bolt one more time and it comes clean off, snapping at the base and he growls in irritation. 

“You break it ya buy it!” Torb shouts from across the bay.

Jesse grunts out a ‘fuck you’ before tossing the broken bolt behind him. It lands with a soft click and he sets about tapping the old bolt out. It takes him some time and goddamn it’s a stubborn fella, but it gives him even more time to plan out his evening.

“They’re here again.” Mako’s gruff tone pulls Jesse from his daydreaming.

He lifts his head around the hood of his truck, where both Zarya and Mako are staring. A fission of fear skates through him when he spots Mackie the weasel creeping on them from across the street. He’s seated on a bench, phone in one hand and a bright red cap on his head. Not the most glamorous of disguises.

“What does he want?” Jesse hisses, “I thought I got rid of those parasites for a while.”

Zarya lifts an eyebrow, “You handled it?”

“Well, Hanzo did.” Jesse supplies, “Damn it.” He throws his tools into the cart next to the truck, “Now I gotta-.”

“No.” Mako puts a hand out against his chest to stop him, “They are only watching you.” His voice grates, steel on steel and deeper than Jesse imagined it would be. It’s also the first full sentence Mako’s ever offered him. 

“But  _ why _ ?” Jesse asks.

“They are-how is it american’s say?” Zarya taps her chin, “Ah. Shaking in their boots. Your Hanzo must have really frightened them.” 

Jesse frowns, “The yakuza are just as powerful here as they are in their home country.”

“Very true.” Zarya agrees, “The Shimada clan is famous even in my home country.” She elbows him lightly, “It is nice to have a man on the inside, yes?” 

Jesse frowns up at her, “That’s not what I want out of him.”

She gives him a million watt grin, “And that-my friend-is why he barred his teeth at them for you.”

“Is that some secret mafia code?” Jesse chuckles.

“Respect and loyalty go a long way in ancient clans.” She offers, “Your Deadlock has no such rules. It is a kill or be killed world and the rules are too skewed. You are smart to have left.” 

Jesse’s shoulders sag, staring out at Mackie as he tries to not so subtly study them from across the street, “That’s the problem though, they won’t let me leave.”

Zarya lets out a scoff, “They will learn the hard way then.” Her hand is firm on his back, patting it once before returning to her job. Mako does the same and disappears to the break area.

Jesse’s never had so many allies in his fight against his past. 

It’s nice.

  
  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  


Evening comes fast, too fast for Hanzo’s liking.

Jesse is in the shower when he arrives. His work-stained clothes are scattered in the hallway and Hanzo gathers them up and deposits them in the laundry basket inside of Jesse’s bedroom. He can hear the other man humming and it is a comforting sound. One he has heard many evenings here. 

The water eventually shuts off and Hanzo looks up from his spot on the sofa as Jesse exits the bathroom, completely naked with the towel around his neck. He lifts an eyebrow slowly, admiring the rounded hips and slick skin.

“Hello.” Hanzo allows himself an inner happy sigh before wrinkling his nose, “Tell me you will be dressed for our evening out.”

“‘O course.” Jesse grins, bring the towel up to scrub furiously as his wet locks, “Figured you’d like a sneak preview of what you get at the end of the night.” 

Hanzo rolls his eyes and gives him a fond smile, “I think you are misinterpreting the meaning of ‘preview’.” 

Jesse shrugs and turns tail to his room. Hanzo lets out a soft rumble as that supple behind disappears down the short hallway. In all his years, he never thought he would be so very attracted to another human being. Sex was always this methodical, practiced thing. Genji had been the flamboyant one. Hanzo had only looked on in envy because his sexual expectations were elsewhere, planned out methodically by their father. 

When Jesse returns to the living room, he is dressed much nicer. Nice dark jeans, an overtly cocky belt buckle, and a dark red button up. The ensemble is complete with boots and the ever so present stetson atop his wild hair. He looks-

Hanzo forces the nameless emotion down and stands. Jesse grins down at him and Hanzo runs a curious hand down his chest to grip at the buckle reading ‘BAMF’. “You are gloriously tacky.” He murmurs.

“You like it.” Jesse laughs.

“Indeed.” Hanzo takes a step back, “Shall we go?”

Jesse leads him to the doorway, grabs a small pack by the kitchen entrance and slings it over his shoulder. They walk down to Hanzo’s car, where Jesse leans against it and smiles, “We’re gonna ditch this thing at the shop.”

Hanzo frowns, finger on the button to unlock the doors, “Why?”

Jesse wiggles his eyebrows, “I gotta surprise for you.” 

Hanzo climbs in and begins the journey to the shop, “I am afraid to ask.” 

“Shush.” Jesse leans back in his seat, “You’ll like it.”

Hanzo can not deny the excitement of the unknown. It has been many years since he allowed himself the freedom to dive headfirst into something without making a plan. He has spent his entire life under a plan, it is nice to be with someone who so blatantly ignores rules. 

When they arrive at the shop, Jesse leads the car into one of the empty bays. He leaves Hanzo alone outside the shop doors, desert air cool even with his long-sleeved shirt. 

A loud revving startles him out of his skin and a rather large motorbike comes gliding around the corner of the shop. Hanzo’s heart flops into his throat, fear and wonder mixing together in a wonderful cocktail. 

Jesse pulls the helmet off of his head, revealing mess locks and a blinding smile, “Whatcha think?”

“I did not know you-.” Hanzo hesitates, “Owned any form of transportation.” 

Jesse looks mildly offended at that, “Hey now.” He hands Hanzo the spare helmet and offers up the backpack, “Think you can carry this for me?”

Hanzo takes the helmet carefully, studying it in his hands before placing it over his head. He knows that the tie in his hair will come loose, but pays it no mind. Not when he as a gorgeous man on a motorcyle waiting for him. He situates the backpack over his shoulders and swings a leg over behind McCree on the bike. 

Jesse reaches back and puts his hands on his hips, “You don’t need to hold on too tight unless I make a sharp corner.” 

Hanzo’s fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, “I-.”

“But-.” His hands are warm as they curl over Hanzo’s and yank them to fold around his waist, “Yer a beginner, so this’ll make you feel safer.”

Hanzo wants to be offended and outraged that Jesse thinks he’s  _ frightened, _ but better safe than sorry. He tightens his arms once, “Where are we going?”

“Surprise.” Jesse replies once again and Hanzo fights the urge to roll his eyes. 

The bike rumbles underneath them and Hanzo instinctively tightens his grip once more. He can feel Jesse release a soft chuckle before putting both feet up on the pegs and pulls them out onto the street. 

Hanzo has seen many bikes in his lifetime. When Genji as a boy, he would point happily at the passing bikers in Hanamura an excitedly claim that he would one day own one. Of course, their father would never allow it. Motorbikes were scarce and a wholly american muscle vehicle. 

It never stopped Hanzo from wondering what it would be like.

Now he knows.

The wind his tempered by the plastic of the helmet, but he can feel it racing against his skin. The entire city pulses around them as they weave in and out of traffic, the machine precise with each movement. Hanzo wonders if it is equivalently to learn archery, patience and a sturdy hold. Jesse wields her beautifully and Hanzo is in awe.

After a while, Hanzo realizes they are leaving the inner city. The road winds now, up, up around trees and sharp corners. It is a thrill, each curve sends his blood pumping faster and causes his fingers to dig into the rounded curves of Jesse’s stomach. His back is warm and even over the roar of an engine, he can feel the younger man’s heart racing. 

It is unlike anything Hanzo has ever experienced. 

They arrive at a small visitors center and the bike rolls to a stop in front of a gated area leading to a small dirt path. Jesse eases the bike off the parking lot asphalt and onto the path. The bike rumbles dangerously as they ascend, finally arriving at a solid section of dirt. 

To his amazement, he can see the bright white hollywood sign from here. It is still far, but Jesse is apparently looking to change that because he starts to take the bike along the dirt path. It takes them a good while, but eventually they are right underneath it. It is a giant, imposing figure against the mountainside. 

The bike shuts off and Jesse kicks up the stand. Hanzo clambers off first and Jesse joins him, both pulling their helmets away. 

“Just set ‘em on the bike.” He grins, putting his down on the seat closest to the handlebars. Hanzo mimics him.

“Are you going to tell me what we’re doing now?” Hanzo asks. 

Jesse puts his hand over his eyes, staring out to the west, “Yep. We’re gonna watch the sunset here.”

Hanzo frowns, watches him relieve him of the backpack and motions for him to follow. He does with quietly, allowing Jesse to push aside brush and weeds as they climb to their destination. There is a small clearing near the base of the sign where Jesse stops and pulls the bag from around his shoulders. He unzips it quickly and pulls out a dark blue blanket. 

Hanzo watches as Jesse settles it over the grass, grinning from ear to ear. He turns to Hanzo, his prosthetic hand outstretched, “Come sit with me?” 

Hanzo takes it without hesitation and they both settle onto the blanket. 

Jesse pulls a bottle of cheap wine and a bag of snacks from deep within the backpack. Hanzo lets out a soft chuckle when Jesse unscrews the bottle, takes a swig and hands it off to Hanzo with a sly grin.

Hanzo takes it and takes a sip, “Do glasses escape you?”

Jesse shrugs and falls back onto one arm, staring out at the horizon. The sunset is beautiful, long gone is the murky clouds and threat of rain. Pinks and oranges spread across the sky in a beautiful symphony. Hanzo relaxes against Jesse’s side, nursing the bottle of wine.

“I use to come up here when I wanted to escape from Marlene’s constant tasks.” Jesse speaks and it’s low, careful. 

Hanzo hums, “What was your job with them?”

Jesse clears his throat, shifts uncomfortably for a second, “I had the honored title of Undertaker.”

Hanzo frowns and turns his gaze back to Jesse’s face, “What is that?” 

“My job was to make sure traitors didn’t talk again.” He mumbles.

He doesn’t meet Hanzo’s eyes, just continues to stare as the sun disappears beyond the horizon. His face is haunted and shadowed, Hanzo does not like it. He sets a gentle hand on Jesse’s arm and waves the bottle in his face.

Jesse takes it with a laugh, “I told you I killed people.”

“Our line of work has its consequences.” Hanzo states. 

They sit in silence for a few more minutes before Jesse lets out a sigh, “You really leaving friday?”

Hanzo nods stiffly, “I do not have a choice.” 

“You kinda do.” Jesse mutters nervously, scraping his nails along the bottle label, “I mean, you’re still a free man.”

Hanzo lets out a weary sigh, “You sound like Genji.”

“Well. Genji’s a smart dude.” Jesse shrugs.

“He is also in a lot of trouble.” Hanzo snaps, “My father will not let him stay here, Jesse. He will not let either of us stay here.”

“You aren’t things.” Jesse sits up, face twisted in anger. 

“My culture is much different from yours.” Hanzo murmurs, reaching forward to cup Jesse’s bearded jaw line, “I would stay with you longer, if I could.” He could get lost in Jesse’s eyes, amber like fine whiskey and always so expressive. 

Jesse leans into the touch, “Why can’t you?”

“This is not my path.” Hanzo murmurs, but he still finds himself leaning forward, tipping his head back, allowing Jesse to take his mouth in a kiss. It aches, a good ache and a bad ache, something that blossoms in his chest and burns. He opens his mouth for Jesse’s questing tongue and lets out a low moan.

Jesse’s hands are warm as they reach out and help him into the cowboys lap. He settles on Jesse’s thighs, dropping his arms over his shoulder and continuing the kiss. It’s warm, soft, comforting. Hanzo melts into it, allowing the arousal to bloom steadily and heat his blood. Those large, warm hands continue to run up and down his arms, his sides, over his back and down to squeeze his ass.

Hanzo laughs into Jesse’s mouth, pressing their forehead together, “You are insatiable.”

“Well, it ain’t my fault yer sexy.” Jesse grins, squeezing again. 

Hanzo steals another kiss.

  
  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 

It ain’t everyday you have a gorgeous man in your lap, the sun set haloing him in light, while he’s kissing the ever loving daylights outta of you. Jesse has never been so turned on. He continues to fondle every part of Hanzo his hands can reach. Hanzo lets out soft, beautiful sounds against Jesse’s mouth, his own fingers curling into the hair at the base of his neck. 

“Will you take me here?” Hanzo whispers, fingers gliding up the back of his skull and sending goosebumps along Jesse’s arms. 

His cock twitches violently under Hanzo’s hips. He drops his hands down to Hanzo’s waist and presses their cocks together in a gentle roll. Jesse moans, eyes fluttering and mouth against Hanzo’s as he feels the answering hardness. 

“Will you let me?” Jesse grins against Hanzo’s lips. 

“I asked, did I not?” Hanzo returns the smile, taking Jesse’s bottom lip between his teeth. 

Jesse groans, shivering under Hanzo’s form and reaching down quickly to unbuckle his pants. Hanzo wiggles out of his own and they both let out startled laughs at the absurdity of it all. It’s awkward and the wind is too cold for naked bodies, but they don’t care. Jesse reaches for the backpack again, digging out the lube and condoms from the front pocket. 

Hanzo sneers at him as he hurries through preparation, “You planned this.”

“You betcha, sugar.” Jesse rumbles, pressing two well lubricated fingers against the rim of Hanzo’s hole. Hanzo’s hands grip tight to his shoulders and a strangle moan escapes as Jesse slips the first one inside. 

Damn, Hanzo is beautiful like this. Head tipped back, mouth open and hips moving with the motions of Jesse’s fingers. 

“Greedy.” Jesse presses an open-mouthed kiss to Hanzo’s neck. 

“Stop making me wait, then.” Hanzo growls.

Jesse takes it as a challenge. 

Before long, he has Hanzo practically gooey in his arms, hips slamming down on his cock. He’s whispering rushed sentences in japanese against Jesse’s ear and it’s magical. He’s tight and hot, absolutely breathtaking astride Jesse’s hips. 

“Jesse.” Hanzo’s voice is wrecked, his eyes are half-lidded and watching Jesse with an intensity that makes his chest tight.

Too tight.

Too-

_ No. _

He wraps his arms low around Hanzo’s back, lifts his mouth up and whimpers for a kiss. Hanzo obliges, hips still pumping and mouth savage against Jesse’s own. He tries to ignore the ache in his chest as the kiss turns soft and the sex more frenzied. Both of them trying to reach an end, but not wanting it to be over so soon. 

The sky has long since gone dark and the wine bottle is tipped into the grass. Everything smells like earth and sea salt, Hanzo smells like sex and a gorgeous floral scent that is driving his senses mad. 

“Come for me, darlin’.” Jesse moans into Hanzo’s mouth and just like that he does. The bulge of his biceps squeeze at Jesse’s shoulders, mouth open in a long, drawn out moan as he spills white against Jesse’s stomach, “Beautiful.” 

Hanzo’s eyes are clenched shut against the pleasure, hips still moving fluidly despite the wrenching orgasm. Jesse can feel his own at the edge, burning at the base of his spine and coiling through his stomach like hot coffee. It’s almost too much. 

Hanzo is too much. 

He wrenches his mouth away from Hanzo’s and buries his face into the pale neck, biting down to keep himself from saying something truly humiliating. 

Something that would sound deliriously close to begging Hanzo to stay.

  
  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  


Hanzo wakes to his phone ringing. 

He grunts and rolls over in Jesse’s bed, sticking his arm out from under the blankets and feeling for his phone on the bedside table. When his fingers find it, he doesn’t think and just slides his finger along the green bar. 

“Yes?” He mumbles sleepily, too tired to move. Too  _ sore _ to move. 

“ _ How unlike you still be in bed. _ ”

The voice is female and Hanzo sits up straight in bed, hair around his shoulders and eyes wide. He snatches the phone from the table and presses it against his ear.

Jesse is not in bed, but Hanzo can smell breakfast being made even through the crack in the bedroom door. 

“ _Yuki,_ _May I ask what this call is for?_ ” Hanzo tries to sound formal and not like he spent an entire evening having sex outdoors under Los Angeles city lights. 

Yuki hums, “ _ Your father called me. Said you were slacking on your mission to retrieve Genji.” _

Hanzo clenches his fists in the sheets, “ _ I am not slacking. _ ”

Nor was he a child that needed his-his-whatever his father wanted her to be, to ‘check up on him’.

“ _ I do not doubt that. _ ” Her laughter is musical, “ _ I am simply letting you know that he is becoming impatient.” _

“ _ He is always impatient. _ ” Hanzo grouches, finally shoving the sheets off of his naked body and getting out of bed. He finds a pair of Jesse’s sweats on the floor and pulls them up, “ _ You have called for another reason as well. _ ” He doesn’t want to hear what it is.

“ _ You know me well. _ ” There is a sly grin in her voice, “ _ Mother is growing impatient. We must pick a date, dear. _ ”

A date.

Hanzo pauses in the middle of the hallway.

A  _ date _ .

For their  _ wedding. _

Reality is a terrible thing. 

He continues his walk down to the living room, before stopping at the doorway to the kitchen. Jesse is at the stove, whistling away, shirtless and only in boxers. He is flipping a pancake around in a frying pan and there is a stack of them on his right, along with others plates filled with eggs and sausage. 

Hanzo’s heart twists painfully in his chest. 

“ _ That is not something to discuss over the phone.” _

“ _ Hanzo!- _ ” He hangs up on her and tosses the phone onto the couch before making his way into the kitchen.

Jesse turns a grin at him, “Mornin’ darlin’!”

Hanzo strides up to him firmly, yanks him down for a deep kiss, holds it even while Jesse is holding the pan up in the air.  When they break apart, Jesse’s grin is soft and so,  _ so _ beautiful in the early morning light of the kitchen. It smells of breakfast and coffee and  _ Jesse _ .

“I made pancakes.” Jesse offers shyly.

Hanzo hums and presses another kiss to his mouth, “I have heard they are legendary.”

“That they are, Hanzo. That they are.”

Hanzo does not think of the phone call or his impending leave for the rest of the morning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter comes pain. Next chapter comes misery.


	7. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Additional Warnings:** Slight violence, alcohol abuse, lotta sad shit.
> 
>  
> 
> _Enjoy_

**Seven**

 

 

 

 

Genji steps out of his and Zen’s bedroom, the last box of their things juggled between his arms. Zenyatta is sitting quietly on his mat folding laundry and Hanzo is staring out the balcony. 

He could not deny his brother one last visit. Hanzo was leaving in the morning, without Genji and he had a long, difficult conversation ahead with their father. Genji owed him a decent good bye and an apology. 

Hanzo turns to him when he sets the box among the others near the front hallway. They were nearly done packing everything but the daily essentials. They still had a few more weeks left, but Zen wanted to be prepared in the eventuality that the Shambali needed him sooner. 

“Will you be staying with us for your last night?” Zenyatta asks with a serene smile.

Hanzo shakes his head, “No, I am-.”

“Staying with Jesse?” Genji interrupts, “ _ Still _ ?” 

Hanzo shoots him an irritated look, “Yes.”

Genji lifts an eyebrow and sets his hands on his hips, “Have you been back to your hotel at all?” 

Hanzo rubs at his tattooed arm, a nervous habit from youth, “I have not.”

He whistles, shares a look with Zenyatta, who only smiles and continues to do the folding of the laundry. Hanzo looks mildly uncomfortable and then irritated, “You were the one who suggested I ‘have fun’ with him.”

“Well yea-.” Genji waves a hand, “But not for your entire trip.”

Hanzo lets out a weary sigh, “It was hard to stay away.”

Genji lets out a laugh, “Jesse has that effect on people. I am glad you had your fun with him, parting ways easily, I hope?”

“On my end.” Hanzo tilts his chin up, dropping his rubbing hand, “I take nothing back to Japan with me.”

Genji winces inwardly.

He takes a step towards his brother, “I am sorry.”

Hanzo seems to startle at the words and Genji can hear Zenyatta rising from the mat behind him. His lover’s footsteps disappear into the back bedroom, probably to put clothes away and give them a moment. 

“I have given you nothing but grief.” Genji continues with a drop of his shoulders. 

Hanzo’s eyes stay on him, curious and cautious, “You are my brother. I expect it.”

Genji frowns, “Yes, but not like this. Not you flying across the world to get me and me denying you. Father will not be happy and yet again you are-.”

Hanzo’s hand falls onto his shoulder, “Genji, you are happy here?”

Genji nods once, meets his brother’s gaze, “I have never been happier.”

“Then I return home alone.” Hanzo says with finality. 

Genji knows how Hanzo is with affection. His brother has shunned it for the majority of their lives. However, he decides to chance a hug, curling his arms around his brother’s back. He’s taller than Hanzo now, despite their ages. 

To his surprise Hanzo hugs him back, a hesitant thing that is almost childlike in wonder. Genji grins into the older man’s shoulder.

“It is only a hug, brother.”

“I was not expecting it.” Hanzo pulls back, “I will miss you as well.”

Genji shakes his shoulder with a wide grin, “I will send you ridiculous postcards from my travels around Nepal.”

Hanzo lets out a chuckle, “I will await them.”

Zenyatta pokes his head around the hallway, “May I return?” 

Genji sends him a thumbs up and Zen walks back into the living room. He bows to Hanzo as his brother readies to leave their apartment. A tight feeling invades his chest as Hanzo returns the bow and tells them ‘Good bye’. 

He doesn’t realize his fist is trembling until Zen’s hand presses gently to the base of his spine. The tight feeling is fear. He may not see Hanzo for  _ years _ . His brother, who flew across the world on a mission and lied to their fathers face because he saw Genji was in love and happy and decided to  _ protect _ him. 

“You will miss him.” Zenyatta whispers.

“We have not been this close in years.” Genji replies, turning around to gather Zen up in his arms. Zen is willing and warm, arms winding around Genji’s waist and head resting on his shoulder. 

“You have made the amends..” Zen murmurs. 

His hands sweep up and down Genji’s spine. It is relaxing and wonderful, Genji relaxes into the hold. He is glad for it, because Zenyatta is his everything now. His rock, his mentor, his lover, his best friend. 

He buries his nose in Zen’s neck and sighs, “Yes. I will miss him.”

His phone goes off in the middle of their stand-up cuddle session and Genji recognizes Jesse’s ringtone. He parts from Zen to search for his phone and finds it setting on the kitchen counter. 

“Jesse.”

“ _ Have coffee with me. Please. _ ” Jesse begs, “ _ I gotta talk to you. _ ”

Zenyatta is wearing a knowing smile in the doorway and inclines his head in a ‘yes’.

Genji furrows his brow, “Yes. The usual?” 

“ _ Five minutes. _ ” Jesse hangs up.

Genji frowns at Zenyatta, “Why do you look like that?” 

Zenyatta spins on the heels of his feet, arms behind his back, “Look like what.”

Genji follows him back into the living room, “You know something.”

“Don’t I always?” Zenyatta laughs and it’s musical and beautiful. 

Genji snatches his coat from the hook by the door, knowing that the sun will set soon and the cold will roll in. He pulls Zen in for a kiss before he leaves and the smaller man melts into it with a heady sigh. 

Genji leaves his apartment with a pep to his step, but Jesse’s desperation can only mean one thing. 

He hopes it isn’t what he thinks it is.

 

 

 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 

 

 

Jesse has had two cups of coffee by the time he spots Genji walking in through the shop’s front doors. His fingers are twitching against this third cup and the barista behind the counter told him he was cut off at this point. 

The younger shimada gives his order to the woman at the register and spins around to make his way to Jesse. He looks a little worn down, probably from the moving process and Hanzo leaving. Well, at least they had the last thing in common. 

Genji takes a seat across from him, inclines his head to the side, “This is an emergency?” 

Jesse lets out a nervous chuckle, “Not an emergency as much as a ‘knock some sense into me’.” 

Genji watches him with a strange sort of patience that would normally tick Jesse off, but now he welcomes it. Gives him a little more time to get his thoughts together before he vomits them all over his friend. 

“This is about Hanzo.” It’s not a question and Jesse drops his head down against the table top with a groan. Genji only sighs, “I knew it.”

“You don’t gotta sound so smug.” Jesse grumbles into the wood of the table. He knows full well that he’s in a mess of trouble. 

“You have only known him for a  matter of weeks.” Genji insists, “That is no time to develop feelings strong enough to get him to stay.”

Jesse knows that, thank you very fucking much. He lifts his head enough to glare at the younger Shimada, but it doesn’t faze Genji in the slightest. The green-haired man just grabs his coffee from the passing waitress and takes a long, calculating sip. 

Jesse wasn’t here for advice on how to get Hanzo to stay with him. No matter how much he desperately  _ wanted _ that advice, he has a feeling Genji would not give it. Hanzo has a life outside of LA. Outside of Genji and Jesse and two am chinese take out after sex on the couch. Hanzo has responsibilities and an empire to run in a handful of years. 

“I’m well aware, thanks.” Jesse sets his forearms on the table, shoves his fists against his forehead, “Doesn’t stop it.” 

Genji lets out a thoughtful sound, “I am glad though.”

Jesse peeks at him, “For what?”

“That Hanzo is still open enough for you to feel this way.” Genji smiles into his mug, “Hanzo has always been hard to crack.”

Jesse frowns at that. Sure, Hanzo was a little prickly and standoffish, but hard to crack? Hanzo was so open and warm in Jesse's presence. Welcoming during sex and willing to share parts of his life. 

“It-uh wasn’t all that hard?” Jesse ventures.

That seems to surprise Genji, who looks at him curiously, “Sex doesn’t count.”

“No. No.” Jesse shakes a hand at him, “It wasn’t just the sex, Genji.”

“Oh.” Genji mouth drops into a slow frown.

They sit in silence for a while, drinking their coffee and lost in their own thoughts. Jesse glances at him every so often, but Genji seems to be having something of an epiphany and Jesse doesn’t want to interrupt that. 

“I’m not gonna ask him to stay.” Jesse says quietly, fingering the rim of his cup, “Not really fair of me ta ask.”

Genji gives him a sad smile, “Even if you did, I doubt he would consider it.” He looks nervous for a second, a little like he’s trying to find the right words, “Hanzo has prior engagements back home anyway.”

Jesse’s thought stutter to a halt. He rolls the words around in his head for a moment, picking them apart before saying the word ‘engagements’ out loud. He says it again with a frown and Genji looks immediately horrified. 

“That is not the righ-.” Genji begins.

“Engagements.” Jesse deadpans, fist tightening around his cup, “As is ‘engaged to be married’ or ‘future leader of a the goddamn yakuza’?” 

He knows buy the humiliated closing of Genji’s eyes that it’s the first one. Nausea curls in his stomach as the realization settles. He pushes his coffee away and puts his face in his hands. A self deprecating laugh rolls out between his fingers, “I’ve been fucking a taken man.”

“Jesse that is not-.” Genji wheezes out a frustrated sigh, “It is complicated.” 

“No.” Jesse snorts, “No it’s really not.”

“Hanzo can explain it better, I am not even sure if it’s still true.” Genji insists. He pauses for a moment, “I have upset you. I am sorry.”

Jesse doesn’t want apologies, he wants the last three weeks of his life to make sense. He wants to know what Hanzo saw in him that would make him  _ stray _ -

“Get out of your head, McCree.” Genji snaps.

Jesse drags his hands down his face to stare at Genji, who has a finger leveled at him and scowl on his features. He gives the finger a scathing look, but says nothing. 

“You must talk to him.” Genji insists, leaning forward, “It is his last night here. Do not leave loose ends untied.”

Jesse wrinkles his nose, “You sound like Zen.” 

Genji shakes his head with a laugh, “It is something he told me upon Hanzo’s arrival.” He stares off to the side, swishes the remainder of his coffee around in his mug, “I wish I could help more.”

“Nah.” Jesse downs the rest of his now cold coffee, “You say yer goodbyes yet?”

Genji nods, “He is probably back at your place by now.” 

He is not.

Jesse searches his entire apartment by the time he gets back from coffee with Genji and Hanzo isn’t inside. It stings a little. He was hoping Hanzo would spend his last evening here, even if Jesse didn’t have it in him to accept company. 

He drops down onto the couch and shoves both hands through his hair. 

Goddamn, he’s not pissed at Hanzo for seeking comfort. Or whatever the hell Jesse was while he was here. In fact, he’s a little honored that someone like Hanzo, who put duty over everything else, threw caution to the wind because he couldn’t keep his hands off of Jesse. 

Too fucking bad Jesse’s the one who made a mess of everything with his  _ feelings. _

 

 

 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 

 

 

 

“ _ Yes, father. He will be on the flight with me. _ ” Hanzo lies well, especially over the phone with his father. It is not as though the elder Shimada can tell. 

He continues to pack his remaining bags, phone pressed between his ear and his shoulder as he father continues on about Genji’s disobedience. Hanzo rolls his eyes at one point, but agrees anyway, not even bothering to fold his clothes back into the suitcases. He doesn’t want to waste what little time he has left with Jesse being a meticulous fool. 

“ _ Genji is young, father. _ ” Hanzo supplies, “ _ He will get over it soon enough. _ ” 

“ _ I will not tolerate his foolishness any longer Hanzo. Upon your return, he will be kept in check.”  _ Hanzo has heard this spill many times in their lives, but this time his father sounds serious. He zips up his last bag and sets it along the wall near the door.

“ _ You have done well, finding him.” _ His father sounds sincere there too. 

Hanzo’s chest hurts. 

His father will not sound so when Hanzo arrives at the estate without Genji in tow. The consequences may even be worse than he can imagine. 

“ _ Thank you father. _ ”

“ _ Rest well, Hanzo. I will see you when your flight lands. _ ”

Hanzo hangs up slowly, staring at his phone and trying to collect his thoughts. Part of him feels as though he should stay in his room, mentally preparing himself for the onslaught of his father’s wrath. The other urges him back to Jesse’s, where there will be food and a warm body and the rumble of Jesse’s snores to look forward to for one last night. 

He takes his sleeping duffle with him when he leaves the room. It seems foolish to sneak out into the parking garage where his car is, but he does so anyway, just in case his father’s men are still trailing him. 

Although, his father would know by now if they really were following him. It was hard enough to lie to his father as to why Genji could not speak to him in the hotel room. Genji saying his goodbyes to his new friends barely passed Sojiro’s scrutiny. 

By the time Hanzo finds a parking spot at Jesse’s apartment, the sun has long since set on the day. He spots Fareeha in the lobby, checking her mail and looking tired despite the mug of coffee steaming in her hand. She gives him a wave.

“Last night?”

“I am afraid so.” Hanzo murmurs, pausing on the first step, “Working late?”

Fareeha shrugs, “I need the extra hours.”

Hanzo frowns at her, “You are hardly ever home.”

She winks at him, “The more I impress the boss, the better my chances of going abroad are. Say hi to Jesse for me.” Her voice is cheerful as she steps out through the front doors and into the cool evening. 

Hanzo continues up the flight of stairs and hovers in front of Jesse’s apartment door. It takes him a moment, he isn’t quite ready to face the man who has given him so much over the last few weeks. 

The knob twists under his palm and opens inward. He takes his shoes off on the welcome mat, sets his car keys on the little table by the door and sets his green jacket over them. 

By the time he enters the living room, Jesse is sitting on the couch, TV off and looking exhausted. Hanzo frowns, feet hesitating on the carpet of the living room. He still makes it to the edge of the sofa.

“Is everything alright?” He asks carefully. 

Jesse’s head turns to him, his hands limp over his knees and eyes somber, “Not so much, I’m afraid.”

Hanzo swallows thickly. Jesse does not want him here for his last night. How foolish of him to assume that-

“I can leave if-.”

Jesse’s irritated grunt interrupts him, “When were you gonna tell me you have a lady back home?”

Hanzo pauses for a moment before scowling, “I see Genji could not keep his mouth shut, as usual.” 

Jesse frowns, “Now don’t go blamin’ him for yer fuck up!”

“ _ Mine _ ?” Hanzo hisses, stepping around the couch to stand in front of Jesse, “I did not tell you because it is not  _ important _ .”

Jesse stands up suddenly, towering over Hanzo, “It sure as hell is important to  _ me. _ ”

Jesse’s chest is heaving, eyes angry and Hanzo feels rightfully guilty for a moment. Hanzo forgets that american’s do not practice arranged marriages as often anymore. He puts his fingers to his temples, frustrated. 

“She is the daughter of a mutual clan.” Hanzo explains, “I have been promised to her since birth.” He looks up to gauge Jesse’s reaction, which was still angry but at least the cowboys face looked open to further explanation. “Were I even remotely involved with her, I would have never touched you, Jesse.” 

Jesse winces at that, but swallows, “I don’t like being second fiddle. Even for a short time.” 

Hanzo lifts his hands to cradle Jesse’s scruffy jawline, “Every moment I have spent here has been about us and only us. However short a time this has been.” 

Jesse nods and his beard scrapes Hanzo’s hands, but he pays it no heed. He only pulls Jesse’s mouth against his own and sighs into it. Jesse’s arms curl around his waist, yanking him against that barrel chest. They kiss for a while, warm, wet mouths intertwining while hands paw and pet at availible body parts. 

Hanzo hates to pull them apart, but he knows it’s only to drag Jesse with him into the bedroom, “Order dinner for us.” He mumbles when he pulls Jesse back down for another kiss. 

Jesse hums and pulls his phone from the back pocket of his jeans. 

 

 

 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 

 

 

 

Much later, after being the recipient of a very enthusiastic blow job, Jesse spreads the mexican take out across his bed. Hanzo sits beside him, munching on a fried taquito and scrolling through his cellphone to confirm his morning flight. 

Jesse stuffs his face full of enchilada, famished after his stellar orgasm. He watches Hanzo every so often, pulling him in for cilantro flavored kisses when he feels the urge. The man comes easily but always backs away with a wrinkled nose.

“How can you eat that?” He grumbles, reaching for another fried stick.

Jesse rolls his eyes, “For a man who looks like a greek statue, you sure like yer fried foods.” 

“Rigorous training, I have told you this before.” 

“Yea yea.” Jesse polishes off the last of his meal and dives in for the chips and salsa, careful not to spill any out on the bed. 

He wants to ask Hanzo a million questions before he leaves. 

The top one of course being ‘please stay with me?’, but he lands on, “When’s the weddin’?”

Hanzo’s shoulders sink and a clouded expression comes over his handsome features, “Are you sure you want to discuss this?”

Jesse shrugs a shoulder, munches on a chip, “Sure. I mean, might as well send me a wedding invite.”

Dark eyes move up to him, “That is a horrible idea.”

Jesse grins, knowing the answer, “And why is that?”

Hanzo shoves his shoulder lightly, “Yuki called just the other day to explain that her mother wants to accelerate the wedding plans.” He pouts into his last taquito, “Father was using her as a means to scold me.”

Jesse wrinkles his nose, “What, like yer keeper or something?”

“Father thinks that I have been tamed by her.” Hanzo snorts, “Ridiculous. Yuki and I have not been involved since our teenage years and even that was a disaster.”

The clench of jealously moves like a storm cloud, but Jesse ignores it, “Not yer type?”

“Not the right gender, I’m afraid.” Hanzo smirks, “We do not need one another to rule our clans as our parents think we do. We came up with a mutually beneficial arrangement when we both decided that the other’s genitalia was unsatisfactory.” 

Jesse lets out a bark of laughter and slaps his thigh, “You had really bad sex and then came up with a  _ yakuza back up plan _ ?”

Hanzo lifts an eyebrow, “Something like that.” 

Jesse leans over to nuzzle at Hanzo’s neck as the Shimada gathers up their food and sets it on the side table. Those warm hands yank at Jesse’s shoulder and pull him down on top of the other man’s chest. Jesse grins down at Hanzo, tracing the blue of his dragon, “Bet I’d make a mighty fine mob wife.”

Hanzo’s eyes crinkle with his smile, “I do not doubt that. However you would be most-.” His fingernails scrape down the back of Jesse’s neck and the blood pools between his legs, “Difficult to manage.” 

Jesse groans, “Killin’ me darlin’.”

Hanzo’s chuckle is dark and promising, “You would like that far too much.”

And ain’t that the truth.

 

 

 

 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 

 

 

 

His alarm wakes him before the dawn. 

The night sky is still littered with stars outside of Jesse’s window and Hanzo does not want to get out of the bed. Jesse is curled up on the right, his own hairy arm tossed across Hanzo’s belly, fingers curled into his side. Hanzo stares up at the ceiling and enjoys the last vestiges of this feeling. 

Jesse is snuffling against his arm, fingers curling and uncurling into the flesh of his side. Hanzo heart tightens and warmth spread across his chest like a wildfire. 

He is going to miss the most. 

The silence of a bedroom before dawn and the warmth of a wonderful man. 

He will go home to his cold, empty bedroom in his large estate and dream of this. He will dream of cilantro kisses and the smell of cigar smoke and motor oil. Hanzo turns his head to the side, watches Jesse’s hair fall across his face.

He will dream of Jesse. 

With a tattered sigh he carefully removes the arm over his belly, lays it out on the bed as he slips free. He gathers his clothing from the night before and shoves it into his bag before removing the clothes he will return home in. A comfortable black shirt and a nice pair of khakis, so his father doesn’t think he forgot himself out west. 

His phone buzzes with his first alarm and he switches it off, places it inside of his pocket. He gathers the charger from behind the table, sets it inside his duffle bag. He turns around the room to make sure there is nothing else he is forgetting. 

If he is to cut contact off completely, he must make sure there is nothing left behind. No clothes. No trinkets. 

He leaves with everything and takes nothing with him. 

“Yer really gonna leave, aren’t you?” Jesse’s sleep rough voice forces him to turn around, slow and steady, keeping his face in check. 

He refuses to reveal how much he does  _ not _ want to do this. 

“You know that I must.” Hanzo slings the duffle over his shoulder, hovers near the door. He should not make the mistake of meeting Jesse at the bed and kissing him goodbye. They are not lovers. They are not  _ together _ . Hanzo will never see this man again in his lifetime and yet-

“I wish I could stay with you.” His feet are soft across the bedroom floor. They betray him as they walk back to Jesse’s bed. His entire body betrays him as he bends forward, hand cupping the side of Jesse’s face.

“Then stay.” Jesse whispers, “Why can’t you stay?” 

Hanzo recognizes the weakness in Jesse’s tone for what it is. The first time this man has ever asked for anything this great. 

Hanzo is a coward.

“It is my duty.” Hanzo begins, “I would give anything to live this soft life with you.” His fingers brush over Jesse’s mouth and his heart aches with the need to kiss him, “And I know that if I let myself I could completely-.” He swallows thickly, pulls away.

He does not miss the mist in Jesse’s eyes as he backs away towards the door. His fingers curl around the frame, head turned away from the man he is leaving behind, “Good bye Jesse McCree.” 

Hanzo should not look back as he enters the hallway. He should  _ not look back _ .

But he does.

And his heart hates him for it because Jesse curls around the pillow Hanzo slept on. He does not look at Hanzo. 

Hanzo flees from the apartment, heart shredded. 

His car takes him back to the hotel, where he loads up his luggage sluggishly and painfully. He almost calls Genji. He almost turns around and returns to Jesse’s apartment. 

He does neither.

The lady behind the desk has a smile that is too wide. His father texts him to remind him what time his flight is. Thankfully, he does not call. Hanzo is not sure he can handle the dreaded conversation of ‘where is Genji’ just yet. 

The last walk to his car is a long one. A hotel lobby has never stretched on for so long, but he eventually enters the parking garage. 

He is so out of it, fingers skimming along the surface of his phone, hovering over the delete button above Jesse’s phone number, he does not hear the footsteps behind him. 

The whip crack of a weapon and a burst of fire through his shoulder jostles him out of his stupor. He spins around on his toes, phone forgotten on the ground and arms up despite the searing pain in his left arm. 

Another crack  and his shoulder blooms red.

His vision doubles as the shadowed figures approach cautiously, arms outstretched. 

Hanzo sinks drowsily to his knees and thinks,  _ a gun. _

A low, dry chuckle erupts from his mouth,  _ how american. _

 

 

 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 

 

 

 

Jesse is not in the mood for whatever Fareeha is shouting about downstairs. 

He scowls into his cup of coffee and tires to ignore her curse words in arabic. The tv in his living room on but he can  _ still hear them what the fuck- _

He slams his mug onto the counter and makes a bee-line for his front door. His mood is black, sour, gone with the wind because he feels like a total fucking nancy. Crying into a pillow because his lady love decided to pack their bags and hightail it outta the country. 

He doesn’t care that he leaves his door open to the hallway as he storms down the stairs, he’s a man on a mission and-

Reyes is on his ass at the bottom of the stairs, broken vodka bottle in his hand and Fareeha standing over him like a summer storm. She’s still in her uniform, arms flailing wildly as she cusses at him in her native tongue. 

Jesse continues down to the last step and his socks soak up the spilled liquor on the floor under Gabriel. 

Gabe’s bloodshot eyes glare up at him, “You here to fucking yell at me too?” His speech is slurred to the point where Jesse almost doesn’t get what he said. 

“What the hell you doin’, Reyes?” Jesse growls, moving around to stand next to Fareeha.

“What the fuck does it look like?” Reyes waves the bottle at the both of them and Fareeha nearly lets out a screech in irritation. 

“It looks like you need an intervention, friend.” Jesse reaches down and yanks the bottle away, walking it over to the trash can and dunking it inside. 

Reyes lets out a string of cuss words, tries to stand up, but slips. 

“It’s empty you moron.” Jesse snaps, stomping back over, “That’s it. I’m done with your ass.”

“Jesse.” Fareeha frowns, “That is not how-.”

“Oh yea. You totally handled it by yellin’ at him too.” Jesse looks down at his drunk-off-his-ass-for-the-millionth-time friend, “Get up.”

Reyes slumps, looks anywhere but at them, “I can’t.”

Jesse sends a sigh up to the ceiling before reaching down to lift Gabriel up by his left arm. He nods at Fareeha to grab the right and she does so. Together they stumble him up the stairs and into her apartment, where they deposit him onto the couch. 

Gabriel refuses to make eye contact with them.

“Call yer mother.” Jesse says to Fareeha, who pulls out her phone, “Tell her we need a bag of ice and some strong ass pain killers.”

“You got it.” She disappears into the kitchen. 

“It isn’t that bad.” Gabriel mumbles.

“Yea.” Jesse snaps, “That’s exactly what an alcoholic would say, Gabe.”

“I’m not a-.” 

“Don’t bother finishin’ that sentence.” Jesse puts up a hand, “I’ve had a shitty mornin’ and this isn’t exactly how I wanted to spend the rest of my day. Baby sitting your drunk ass.”

Gabriel covers his face with his hands. He says nothing more and Jesse begins to pace in front of the couch. He can hear Fareeha talking to her mother on the phone in the kitchen. The sink is running, she’s probably fixing Gabriel some water.

Jesse insides are twisted and torn. He feels a million different things at once, but he settles on the anger. The seething irritation itching under his skin. 

It doesn’t last long.

Gabriel lets out a choked, “I’m sorry.”

Jesse stops pacing, squats down till he’s level with Gabriel’s knees, “You gotta problem Gabe.”

“I know.” Gabriel says into his hands, head back against the couch. His shoulders are shaking. 

Jesse shoves a hand through his hair, “Let us help you fix the drinking at least.”

“The drinking  _ helps _ .” Gabriel protests.

“At what cost?” Jesse hisses, “Ya can’t even stand up right now. You can’t hold a job.” He takes a deep breath, places his hands on Gabriel’s knees and squeezes, “You don’t want help with the PTSD, fine? But the drinking has to go man. Yer just gonna kill yourself faster.”

He gets a minute nod of the head and that’s enough for him. 

Jesse get back to his feet and Fareeha rounds the corner, shaking her phone, “Mama is on the way. She’ll get the items you need.”

“I’m gonna throw up.” Gabriel mutters.

Jesse sighs, “I’ll go get the can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not ask forgiveness, I only ask for patience. 
> 
>  
> 
> Someone please Hug Jesse McCree and Hanzo Shimada. They both need hugs.
> 
> There was no actual sex in this chapter, because I needed their last night to be an emotional awakening for them both. Look how good you two can have it if Hanzo would _just stay_.


	8. Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. Finally. 
> 
> **Additional warnings:** Violence and blood. Slight torture, but nothing too serious.
> 
>  
> 
> _Enjoy_

 

**Eight**

 

 

 

Awareness comes in flashes. His shoulder burns and throbs with every beat of his heart. He can’t move his left hand, the fingers are limp and sticking to the cold floor beneath him. There are voices around him, somewhat muted and angry, heated arguments back and forth and Hanzo just wants them to  _ shut up _ .

His vision swims as he cracks open one eye. There are two men in front of him, both arguing, hands flailing. Broken english filters through the conversation and Hanzo can only understand bits and pieces of it.

_ She is going to be furious- _

_ Not if she doesn’t- _

_ You got the wrong one you moron- _

Hanzo doesn’t need to reach far to figure out that the ‘she’ they are referring to is most likely Marlene. Leader of the Deadlock gang. He should have known, no one would normally be bold enough to kidnap a  _ Shimada _ in broad daylight.

However, a Shimada would have not been so distracted.

A Shimada would have deleted Jesse’s number and focused on his surroundings instead of being so blindly in lo-

Hanzo swallows around the dryness of his throat, tries to stay attuned to the conversation. The pain in his shoulder is excruciating. He can barely think around it and suddenly regrets not listening to his father when he warned that Americans loved their guns. He wonders idly if anyone will notice he’s missing. Not until his father arrives at the airport and Hanzo is not there, he assumes.

“Cowards.” Hanzo spits out, shifts on his ass, trying to stretch out his legs, but they’re tied. His arms are tied. 

His awareness is almost back to normal.

“Shit.” One of the men hisses, “He’s awake. Should we-.”

The sound of flesh slapping flesh, “No. She can’t know we picked up the wrong one.”

Hanzo blinks at the ground, furrows his brow, ‘The wrong-’

_ Genji _ .

They were supposed to take  _ Genji _ .

Hanzo has never been more grateful. Had he left the country and they had succeeded with their plan, he would have never made it back in time to save his brother's life. Which would be a mess of plane tickets and immigration and Genji would be long gone by the time Hanzo even made it back to the states. 

He breathes steadily, relaxes his body bit by bit and concentrates on controlling the pain from the gunshot. It is far worse than he imagined, getting shot. The blood is warm and sticky under his shirt and the wound itself is a cesspit of agony lit on fire. Hanzo scans the room as he settles in for a long wait, sees one window and a single door at the top of a set of stairs. He’s in a basement, he’d assume.

“Do you intend for me to die down here?” Hanzo grouses, sending both men a scowl, “If your intention is to kill my brother and I, what you do hope to gain from it?”

“Shut up.” One snaps.

Hanzo lifts an eyebrow, “Surely you’re not after  _ money _ .” 

“I said-.” The same one walks forward, slams a fist into the side of Hanzo’s face, “ _ Shut up _ .”

The burn in his cheek dulls the pain in his shoulder for a moment, but he finds himself on the ground, head throbbing where it connected with concrete. It seems he will not leave this place unscathed. Scared men like mice, running around a sewer and trying to impress the higher order. 

Pathetic.

Hanzo breathes out slowly, inhales on a hiss as he uses his injured shoulder to muscle himself back into a seated position. His blood boils with the pain and he drops his head back against the wall, closes his eyes.

The men continue fighting. 

Hanzo thinks of Jesse, sleep warm and snoring beside him in bed that morning. The soft words and slick kisses they shared in the night, still tasting of mexican food and soda. His heart trembles, eyes squeezing shut as he looks back, watches Jesse curl around that pillow, heart broken and lost. 

He wonders if he made a mistake, leaving Jesse in that bed. Was his father’s empire more important than spending his life wrapped around a gorgeous man? When he ruled modern men, would it be enough to satisfy him? Would he be willing to forget Jesse?

The answer was  _ no _ .

Perhaps it had always been.

  
  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  


Jesse himself is contemplating becoming three sheets to the wind after a day like today. 

Once he gets Reyes situated on Fareeha’s couch, he drops down in the hallway and buries his face in his knees. He’s exhausted from dealing with a drunk, his socks reek of cheap booze, and he’s already horribly late for work. Torb  _ seemed _ understanding when Jesse rang him up over an hour ago, but after Jesse’s last failure of a job, he doesn’t give much hope in having one when he returns. 

“You seem troubled.” Ana’s voice is both a balm and a reminder of what he’s fucked up.

Jesse lifts his head slowly, peers up at her from under his bangs, “Define ‘troubled’.”

She laughs softly and slides down the wall next to him. Her hair is out of its braid today, but she’s still in her office clothes. He’s not used to seeing her so unkept. 

“Feels like I should be askin’ you that.” He mumbles, setting his cheek on one knee.

Ana shrugs a shoulder, “I was on my way to work when Fareeha called.” She releases a little sigh and tips her head into the wall.

Jesse watches her, “Think he’ll really get help for tha drinkin’?” 

“He will.” She smiles, “Small steps, Jesse.” Her eyes roll to the side and stare at him, “How are you holding up?”

Jesse swallows, turns his face back between his knees, “‘M’fine.”

“I’ve known you for a long while.” Ana huffs, “I can tell when you are upset. Is it your hallway fling?”

Jesse groans, “Did Gabe tell  _ everyone _ ?”

Ana’s laugh is a loud burst, “I didn’t believe him at first.” 

Her laugher softens, dies out. Jesse keeps his face hidden, hates the lump that forms in his throat around the memory of their first time together. 

“Doesn’t matter.” He mumbles, “He’s long gone by now.” 

“Oh  _ habibi _ .” One of her hands cups the back of his neck, curls in the hair at the base, “You will heal.”

Jesse doesn’t want to heal. He wants to go back to his apartment and Hanzo be waiting for him. He wants to make him pancakes every sunday and listen to him complain about Jesse’s oil-stained clothes leaving a mess all over the apartment. It feels empty without him there. Just a few short weeks and Jesse doesn’t feel like he can function right. All his cylinders are misfiring and it’s only been a  _ day _ .

“Go to work. I will watch over Gabriel.” Ana stands up, dusts off her pants, “Try to take your mind off of it.”

Jesse agrees, returns to his apartment and gets dressed for his job. An hour later, he’s trudging through the bay doors. Torb watches him from his spot near an old toyota. Zarya peeks out from under a white sedan, her hands slick with oil and a smudge across her cheek. Jesse goes straight for the queue board, grabs the next receipt and set of keys. 

He works in relative silence and no one bothers him. A few customers trickle in to pick up their cars, Jesse pays them no mind. He has too many thoughts scrolling through his head. He wants to go home, he wants Hanzo, he wants to  _ call _ Hanzo. Just to see if he’s made it home yet. 

After two hours, he decides against it. It’s too soon for that.

“You must speak about it.” Zarya is the first one to interrupt his working. 

Jesse scowls at the alternator he’s changing. He wonders if he just ignores her, that she’ll go away.

A few minutes tick by and he finally turns his head. She’s frowning at him, hands on her hips. Jesse props is elbows on the edge of the engine block and sighs, “What?”

“You are acting like a schoolgirl with a crush.” She states, “We will go out for drinks tonight, yes?”

Jesse wrinkles his nose, “Come on Zar, I ain’t ready to pick no one else up. He just left.”

“You knew this was temporary and yet you are still moping like a small child.”

“Now that’s not nice.” Jesse frowns, “‘M just a little heartbroken, Zar. He was-.” He looks down at his hands, the black stains and calloused fingers, “He was the best I ever had.” When he looks at her again, her expression is softer, “I ain’t ever gonna find another fella like him again.”

Zarya sighs, pats his back, “Then I shall leave you to your moping.” She pauses before turning away, “You should have told him how you felt before he left, my friend.” Then she returns to her work, metal clanking and machines revving. 

Jesse closes his eyes.

  
  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  


“ _ Ah! _ ” 

Genji groans into Zenyatta’s neck, fingers curled into fists on either sides of his head. His hips pump steadily, Zen’s legs wrapped tight at the base of his spine. Fingers scramble down the length of his back, leaving raised marks over his tattoo. 

The apartment is empty around them, save for a few boxes. 

Genji pushes up to his elbows, slants his mouth over Zen’s. The younger man moans into it, fingers digging into Genji’s sides, legs tightening. His cock jumps between them, smearing precum along Genji’s stomach. 

Genji pants against Zen’s lips and bites the bottom one, “Gonna miss this place.” He slams inside again, Zen’s breathing hitches and his face twists in pleasure, “But I am ready to start a new life with you.” 

Zenyatta’s grey eyes slit open, his hands grip at the back of Genji’s head and he pulls him in for another kiss. It’s wet, open, tongues tangling and soft, wonderful whimpers bleeding inside. Genji melts into it, can feel his orgasm hurtling forward.

“ _ G-genji _ -.” Zenyatta gasps sharply, presses their foreheads together. Genji can feel him tense up, cock spraying between them. He follows almost immediately and mouths at Zen’s cheeks, his ear, down his neck. 

His thighs tremble holding his weight up, but he gives Zen a quick kiss before pushing up to his knees. Zen looks a wreck under him, arms flopping onto the blanket Genji’d laid out before they even started. He’s watching Genji with a soft, blissful smile. One of his hands moves to glide up Genji’s sweaty thigh. 

“We could have done this in the bedroom.” He chuckles.

Genji grins, “But this is where I took you for the first time.”

Zen’s eyes flutter closed, “Oh I remember.” He pinches Genji’s skin and he yelps, swatting it away fitfully, “You were a menace then and you continue to be one now.”

“You love me.” Genji grabs for their clothes, tosses Zen’s to him. He cleans them both up with a few paper towels and they lay out in the middle of the room, enjoying the afterglow.

“I am going to miss this place.” Zenyatta whispers, turning his head in Genji’s direction. Genji’s heart stutters under that gaze. Zen lifts a hand and trails a finger down Genji’s cheek, “Thank you for joining me on this journey, dearest.” 

Genji isn’t going to cry.

He gives Zen a shaky smile, “I’d follow you anywhere.”

Zen rolls over and kisses him, slow and soft. Genji sighs into it, glides his hands over Zen’s bare arms. 

His cellphone ringing breaks them apart. 

Genji sighs and rolls away, pulling the phone from where it rested next to his duffle bag. Hanzo’s name sits on the screen and Genji frowns.

“It’s too early for him to be arriving in Hanamura.” He mutters to himself, sliding the bar to answer, “Is father mad at me?” He tries for light, humorous.

“ _ Is this Genji _ ?” It’s a woman's voice, accented. 

Genji sits up straighter, fear curling into the pit of his stomach, “It is, who is this?”

“ _ Sombra. I work with computers and my friend found this phone in her hotel parking lot _ .” She explains, “ _ You were the last call on the list _ .” 

Genji can’t breathe, Zenyatta’s face appears before him, face worried, “This is-my brothers phone-.” His hands shake, “Is he alright?” The questions pour out before he can stop them and the woman shouts.

“ _ Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa, I dunno, I just unlocked the phone. _ ” 

Genji’s eyes meet Zenyatta’s. 

“ _ You gonna come get it from me? _ ” The woman asks.

“I-.” Genji doesn’t  _ know _ , “I must find my brother.” 

Silence on the other end of the line, then, “Well. Where was he going?”

“The airport. He was to fly back to Japan today.” Genji manages.

A snort, “ _ Oh that’s easy. I can tell you if he got on the plane at least? _ ” He listens to her type for a bit, asks for Hanzo’s name. Another bit of silence, “ _ He never checked in. Maybe he decided to stay longer? LA is pretty sweet _ .”

Not Hanzo. 

“No.” Genji swallows, “My brother is nothing if not predictable. I will come retrieve the phone later.”

“ _ I’ll text ya my work address. _ ” 

He hangs up and immediately dials Jesse’s number. It goes directly to voicemail. He cusses in his native tongue, nearly throws the phone across the room. Zenyatta’s fingers curl around his wrist, stopping the movement.

“Calm, dearest.” Zen murmurs, “He will be at work at this hour.” 

Genji takes a breath, dials Torb’s shop number. It rings forever before Torb’s gruff voice answers.

“I must speak with Jesse.” Genji blurts.

“ _ He’s workin _ .”

“It is important or I would not call.”

Torb grumbles, shouts Jesse’s name. 

Genji is pacing around his soon-to-be empty living room by the time Jesse answers the phone with a gruff ‘whatcha want’.

“Jesse!” Genji shouts.

“Genji?” He can hear the confusion in Jesse’s tone, “What’s wrong?”

“Please tell me Hanzo is at your apartment.” Genji squeezes his eyes shut, presses his forehead against a wall. 

“He left this mornin’.” Jesse says carefully, “What’s goin’ on?” 

Genji fears the worst, “I must-.” He doesn't want to say it, “I must call my father. Hanzo is missing.” 

  
  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  


Jesse hangs up the phone in Torb’s shop and turns to face the smaller man. Torb is scowling at him.

“What was so important?”

“His brother never made it to the airport.” Jesse feels numb, he fumbles for his own phone after wiping his hands clean. He can hear Zarya and Mako approaching as he unlocks the screen. There are no calls from Hanzo. 

“Perhaps he was just late?” Zarya sounds nervous, unsure. 

Jesse looks up at her with a frown, “Why do you sound like that?”

She bites her lip, “Give me five minutes.” Jesse nearly calls after her when she whips around to her section of the garage. He watches her dig around and pull out a sleek cellphone, pressing the screen and then putting it against her ear. 

Genji's sends him a series of texts while Zarya makes her phone call. Jesse’s stomach drops out as he reads through them.

Hanzo’s phone in the parking garage. Never checked in at the airport. 

“Jesus.” Jesse wheezes. He starts pacing, Mako and Torb watch him in silence. 

Zarya returns, still holding her phone, “I’ve found him.”

Jesse blinks, shakes his head, “ _ How _ ?”

Zarya lifts an eyebrow, “I was part of the Russian mafia at one point.” She points at Torb, “I have been out for six years, thanks to Torbjorn.” She wiggles the device in her hands, “I called in a long overdue favor.”

Torb huffs, “Dangerous idea. Bad enough Deadlock won’t leave Jesse alone.” He crosses his arms over his chest, “I do my best to keep you three under the radar.”

“Much appreciated.” Zarya gives him a wry grin, “However, Deadlock is the reason your Hanzo is missing.” She meets Jesse’s gaze, “He was spotted at a warehouse near the harbor. There was blood.”

Jesse closes his eyes.

_ Marlene _ . That sea snake and her band of lowlives was never going to let him go, were they? He was never going to be free of them. 

Is this the price he pays for his past?

“Hanzo’s yakuza, surely they didn’t just get tha drop on him like that.” Jesse is already head for his station, snatches the keys to his bike. 

“The Shimada clan are traditional Yakuza, Jesse.” Zarya informs, “They do not handle disputes or hold ransoms with guns. If they shot him-.”

Jesse swallows thickly, beelines for his bike, “Torb, I’ve gotta-.”

Torb sighs and waves him off, “Go on. We’ll see what we can do from here.”

Zarya waves her phone at him, “I will have my contact keep an eye on the warehouse and send you the location, yes?” 

Jesse mounts the bike, “Thanks, Zar!”

He hightails it to his apartment complex, breaking at least six traffic laws on and running two red lights. The tires screech as he slides into a parking space between two other cars. He takes the steps to his floor three at a time, skids to a halt inside his apartment.

It takes him damn near ten minutes to toss all of his shit out of the closet to find the box where he kept peacekeeper.

He dials Genji’s number.

“Found yer brother.” Jesse digs around for his ammo boxes, loads the revolver methodically. 

“ _ Who has him? _ ” Genji’s voice his lethal, angry.

“Deadlock has ‘im, Genji-.” Jesse slips the gun down the back of his pants, releases a shaky sigh, “This is my fault-I got him inta this mess-.”

“ _ No _ .” Genji’ voice is hard, “ _ Hanzo exposed himself and that comes with risk in our family _ .” He’s shuffling something around on his end of the line, “ _ Meet me at my apartment, Jesse. We will go to him together. _ ” 

“No.” Jesse snaps, “I ain’t draggin’ you into this mess too!”

“ _ Jesse McCree, that is my brother. _ ” Genji hisses, “ _ Until father receives a ransom request, we are on our own _ .”

Probably not wise of them to jump in the middle of a ransom hold. If this was Marlene’s plan all along, then how did she know that Hanzo would be in the states? If her big plan to pull in money was to kidnap the air to the Shimada clan then-

“Mother fuck-.” Jesse slams his apartment door shut. 

“ _ What is it _ ?” Genji asks.

“They weren’t after Hanzo.” Jesse hisses, “They were after  _ you _ .”

Genji’s quiet for a moment, “ _ That makes sense. I have been here longer. She could easily scout me out _ .” Another pause, Zenyatta’s calm tone in the background, “ _ You are right. Jesse. Meet me at the parking garage of Hanzo’s hotel _ .” 

The lines clicks off. 

  
  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  


Genji has had no use for his blade in many years. 

He can feel Zenyatta’s eyes on him as he pulls it from the last box in their bedroom. It is in the same condition it was in when he arrived in the states. He’d hidden it away the moment he’d decided he was done with his family. The blade was an extension of his past, the struggles of what he was supposed to become. The sword and shield as he brother ruled the underbelly of Hanamura. 

Locking it away had been a cleansing. 

“Are you sure?” Zenyatta’s voice is a whisper.

“I can not go in unarmed.” Genji wraps his fingers around the sheath. It is cool under his palm, his dragon engraved in a winding curve around its circumference. 

“They will have guns, Genji.” Zenyatta warns, “I can not-.” His voice wavers and Genji doesn’t need him to finish it to know exactly what he was going to say. 

He turns to him slowly, pulls him into a kiss, “You will wait for me?” 

“Of course.” Zenyatta wrinkles his nose, “Although I do not like the idea of sitting idle while you go after armed criminals.”

Genji chuckles, gives him a nosy kiss, “Then I shall make it quick. Then we will leave for Nepal and it will just be us.”

Zen sighs, presses a hand over Genji’s heart, “I love you.”

Genji smiles, “I love you too, Zen.”

They share another kiss and Genji is out the door. 

Jesse is waiting for him at the entrance to the garage, seated on his bike. Genji walks right past him and motions for the man to follow. The garage is empty for the late hour of the day. He looks for Hanzo’s rental car, spots it at the end of the row. 

His eyes scan the concrete for any signs of scuffing or blood. There is a dark stain halfway to Hanzo’s car, he squats down. 

“Goddamn.” Jesse mutters behind him, “Was that-.”

Genji sighs, “Blood, they cleaned it well. Which would be why the hotel clerk did not think ‘struggle’ when she found the phone.” He stands back up quickly, makes his way to Hanzo’s car. The back seat is empty save for Hanzo’s travel bag. The front seat is the same.

He circles back to the trunk, taps the top of it, “Think we can get this open?” 

Jesse’s brow furrows, “We know where he is, Genji. Why are we here?”

“We are not going into enemy territory without giving Hanzo a weapon.” He scoffs, unsheathing his sword and jamming it under the lip of the trunk. American cars are so flimsy, it takes him two tries and the lid pops open with a sharp crack. 

Hanzo’s suitcases are inside, along with a sleek blue case. Genji grins, pulls the case out quickly and pops the latches on the sides.

Jesse lets out a breath behind him, “Is  _ that- _ ?”

Hanzo’s stormbow is just as beautiful as it has always been, even deconstructed to fit through american customs. Genji shuts the case, locks it back up, and slams the trunk lid closed.

“We are ready.” He situates the straps over his shoulders, wincing as it causes his sword to dig into his back.

Jesse is staring at him, mouth open, Genji frowns, “You were in a gang for how long? How is this a surprise?”

“You seemed so  _ normal _ .” Jesse hisses, “Until yer all strapped up and ready to take down an entire warehouse full of criminals.”

Genji lift an eyebrow, “Jesse. I have been trained since birth to protect my brother.” He heads for Jesse’s bike, the other man right on his tail, sputtering. 

“I mean, I knew you were, but still.” Genji waits for Jesse to start the bike up before climbing on behind him. 

Genji watches Jesse check the mirrors, adjusting for another passenger and the extra weight of Hanzo’s weapon case, “Hanzo has told you quite a bit about our family.”

Jesse shrugs a shoulder, “Told ya it wasn’t that hard to get him to talk to me.” 

How unusual of Hanzo to open up to a stranger. Hanzo, who was careful with his affections, careful with his emotions. Genji had spent much of his childhood trying to gain Hanzo’s attention. His brother was always busy. Always distant.

It was not until recently that he realized Hanzo has been the shield between Genji and their father. 

Genji drops his head between Jesse’s shoulder blades and prays they reach his brother in time. 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  
  
  


A kick to the ribs startles Hanzo out of his meditation. He was just on the verge of erasing the pain completely. Pain laces down his side, he desperately hopes they are not broken or cracked.  Another kick causes him to snarl, lifting his head to stare at his abuser. 

“I guess I can forgive them for the mixup.” Marlene sneers down at him, “Oh how the mighty have fallen.”

“Do you really think this is going to work in your favor?” Hanzo wheezes, trying to keep his voice steady and firm, but ultimately failing. 

She only laughs at him and it sends his blood boiling. 

“I wonder how much Sojiro would be willing to pay?” Marlene taps a finger against her chin, heels clicking as she walks a path in front of him. She is dressed smartly, bright blue pantsuit professionally pressed. Her graying hair is piled neatly atop her head. 

He says nothing and it gains him another kick to his side. Air wheezes through his teeth and yes, that would be a rib cracking. 

His vision swims as he listens to the melody of manicured nails on a cellphone screen. She chuckling to herself, “International phone calls are tedious, but this will be worth it.” 

Hanzo laughs softly, “Was this your plan all along?” He shifts his legs under him, hates the ache in his knees and thighs, “Your silly little idea to bring Jesse back into the fold was to have him kidnap his  _ friend _ ?”

A pause, “Jesse now, is he?” Her voice is sly and a finger lifts his chin. Her grin is disgustingly knowing, lips bright pink, “He always did love his men dangerous.”

Hanzo’s face twists into a snarl, unbecoming of a Shimada, but he is unable to control the anger boiling inside him, “You do not even know how dangerous I truly am.” 

She snorts, drops his chin and turns away. He slumps forward, weak from blood loss and lack of food. 

“You are nothing at the moment, Mr. Shimada.” He peeks at her through his hair, watches the phone rise to her ear, “Once my money is transferred. You will die. Your brother will be next and the Shimada line will end with your father.” A toss of her hair, “I will ensure the fall of your clan.”

Hanzo snorts as her heels click up the staircase. 

She is right. He is  _ nothing _ tied up and broken in a basement somewhere in a city as huge as Los Angeles. No one will find him here. 

He only wishes there was a way to warn Genji. Jesse. Of what was to come. 

He presses his cheek to the cool concrete of the wall, struggles to get comfortable after being jostled from his meditation. His shoulder is long past numb, the blood has clotted, but he has no idea if the shot was clean. He can not tell through the brown stain on his shirt. 

His breathing is labored, struggling through the cracked rib, ribs? His vision is still swimming from the pain. 

“What kinda shitty security-?” 

Hanzo frowns, brow wrinkling at the voice. 

“This ‘Marlene’ must be very short staffed.” Another familiar voice, coming closer. Down the steps, “Back home, father would have men stationed at every entrance and exit of a holding chamber.”

“Hanzo!” 

Oh.

He knows those voices.

One of his eyes cracks open slowly just as Jesse skids towards Hanzo on his knees. His hands are out, expression worried, “Goddamn, darlin’, what did they do to ya?”

“Jesse-.” Hanzo whispers, convinced he is hallucinating. His injuries must be quite extensive. A dry laugh leaves him, “At least I am allowed you before I die.”

His shirt is ripped away from his left shoulder and the second voice lets out a curse in Hanzo’s tongue. Does he truly get his brother  _ and  _ Jesse as his last vision?

“Lost a lotta blood.” Jesse mutters, “Clean shot though. Two of ‘em.” Hanzo hisses when fingers prod at the outer edges of the wounds and he snaps into awareness.

“There he goes.” Genji is squatting beside Jesse, “We are here to rescue you, brother.” His grin is wide, a little nervous.

Hanzo frowns, “How did you find me?”

“Jesse has connections with the russian mafia.” Genji informs brightly.

“ _ What _ ?” Hanzo hisses, scowling at Jesse as he whips out a pocket knife from his boot and starts to release Hanzo from his bonds.

Jesse rolls his eyes, sweat on his brow and hair matted to it, “Not me. Zarya.”

Hanzo breaths easier when his wrists and legs are released. Jesse pulls him to his feet and he wobbles, fingers curling into the other man’s forearms. He winces as his knees protest and his rib throbs. Genji’s hand settles in the center of his back, steadying him as he tries to step closer to Jesse. 

“Careful, sugar.” Jesse murmurs, “You’ve been down here all day. Where else you injured?” 

“Ribs.” Hanzo wheezes, setting his forehead against Jesse’s chest, “Courtesy of the lovely Marlene.”

Jesse scoffs, “Gotta shiner on yer cheek too.” 

Hanzo turns his head, looks up at Jesse with a wry grin, “Your american gang thinks I have a ‘smart mouth’.” 

“Well,” Jesse chuckles, “Ta be fair, ya do.”

Hanzo finds the strength to pinch Jesse’s arm. 

“Can you walk?” Genji whispers, “The hallway was empty upon our arrival, but it may not stay that way for long.” A buzzing sound reaches Hanzo’s ears and Genji pulls a phone out of his back pocket, “Ah. That is Yuki. Father has received the ransom request.”

Jesse wraps an arm around Hanzo’s waist and they make their way to the staircase. 

“How much does she deem me worthy?” Hanzo grins, half delirious with pain. 

Genji whistles low, “A large sum, even for our family.” His brother shrugs, “Easy for father to get a hold of, of course, but does she really think he will honor such a request?”

“I am the heir.” Hanzo sighs, “She must think I am valuable.” He grumbles, hating that he requires help to get up a flight of stairs, “Some such nonsense about ‘ending the Shimada clan’.”

Jesse snorts, “She’s always been bigger than her britches.” 

Hanzo wrinkles his nose at that.

Genji moves ahead of them and opens the door, peeking both ways. Hanzo spots the hilt of Genji’s sword and-

His bow.

Hanzo frowns, “How did you put her together?” 

Genji sends him a look, something Hanzo can not quite decipher, “I used to watch you take her apart and put her back together.” 

It surprises him.

“Family reminiscin’ later, fellas.” Jesse clears his throat as they enter the hallway. 

Genji types a reply on his phone quickly before shoving it back into the pocket from whence it came. Hanzo feels steadier on his feet, pushes away from Jesse and succeeds. Jesse’s hands hover slightly, but Hanzo is grateful for his confidence. 

He motions at Genji, “Give her to me. I will be armed for this.”

Genji sheds the bow easily, hands her Hanzo and she is a familiar, beautiful weight centered in his palms. The quiver is given to him next and he winces when he has to jostle his left shoulder to place it on his back. 

The three of them walk down the hall, Genji’s sword at the ready, Hanzo with an arrow already nocked, Jesse with peacekeeper at their back. They probably make quite the picture, slinking through a gang's base with such seemingly useless weapons. 

“Not so fast.” 

They freeze in unison, Jesse’s back presses into Hanzo’s. Genji blocks him from view, but he can still make out Marlene’s form, two men on either side of her. She has an assault rifle aimed at them. Then men are armed with pistols. 

“Where do you think you’re all goin’?” She tsks.

“A hospital.” Genji states confidently, “Preferably.”

She scoffs, “I doubt that.”

“I do not.” Genji says, “You and your men will need one.”

Hanzo grits through the pain in his shoulder as Genji drops to a crouch in time for him to let loose the first arrow. It strikes Marlene through her left shoulder, the rifle hitting the ground with an echoing thud. The men start to fire next, but Jesse takes out two of them on the left before they can. Genji deflects the bullets from the right.

Hanzo shoots two more arrows in succession and the last men crumble like a ton of bricks. 

“Too easy.” Genji scoffs, sheathing his blade, “Was that all?”

“Short staffed, remember?” Jesse says. 

Hanzo watches as Marlene struggles to get to her gun, fingers clawing at it. 

Jesse walks ahead of them and picks it up, separating the clip from the weapon. Marlene sits up, yanking the arrow out of her shoulder and snarling, “You will never be free of us, Jesse McCree. You don’t leave Deadlock unless you’re  _ dead _ .”

Hanzo steps in front of Jesse, puts a foot to Marlene’s shoulder and slams her back against the ground. She shouts once, eyes wide as he presses into the wound. Blood oozes from it, leaking onto the ground under her, “Let this be a warning to you.” He does not lower himself, only stares down at her with a thunderous expression, “That if you or any of your men come near us again, I will  _ personally _ dispose of you.”

She hisses at him, “What type of man doesn’t kill his enemy?”

Hanzo lifts an eyebrow at her, “You are not  _ my  _ enemy.” 

He hears the whirl and click of a revolver reloading. He grins as her features melt from anger to fear. 

_ Bang. _

  
  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  


Jesse wakes to sunlight and a headache. He’s on his stomach, face half buried in a pillow and wearing only pants. Something clatters to the ground in the distance and now he knows what woke him. Another crash and a curse.

He pushes up to his elbows, blinking around his bedroom and wondering what the hell he did last night.

Another loud sound. This time something rolling around.. 

He rolls over onto his back, stares up at the ceiling. Something vibrates to his left and he glances over at the other end table. A phone that isn’t his sits there, vibrating along the surface before settling. He reaches for it, blinks blearily at the screen.

Genji:  _ My flight leaves in three hours. We will be by in a bit to say good bye. How are you feeling? _

Jesse sits up fast now and it causes him to groan, grabbing at his head to stop the rush. Once it passes, he sprints out of his room, phone tight in his palm as he enters the other part of his apartment. 

Hanzo is standing at the counter wearing only a pair of Jesse’s sweatpants, feet bare. His left arm is in a sling, white bandage taped to the front and back. He’s scowling at a bowl of batter, his other free hand attempting to stir it and hold the bowl with the skin of his stomach. 

Jesse sags against the doorframe of the kitchen. 

“Not a dream.” He swallows.

Hanzo startles, turns to face him, “You are awake.” 

Jesse grins, slow, “You shouldn’t be movin’ around so much.”

Hanzo scoffs, returns to stirring the batter, “It is Sunday. You deserve to sleep in.”

“Me?” Jesse laughs, setting the phone on the counter before wading further into the kitchen and hip checking Hanzo out of the way. He takes the whisk and laughs again when Hanzo protests, “I’m not the one who got shot trying to leave the country.”

“Which would not have happened if you didn’t join a terribly organized gang at fourteen.” Hanzo hisses. 

“Which wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t jumped into bed with me.” Jesse wiggles his eyebrows.

Hanzo’s frown deepens, but he has no reply. 

Jesse stops stirring after a few moments. The air in the room is stifled, thick. Genji is on his way to say his own good byes and Hanzo-

“When-.” He clears his throat, goes to butter up a pan, “When does your flight leave?”

It’s not a question he wants to ask. Hell. The last two days have been hell. They were damn lucky Mako had his own connections within the city and Hanzo was able to see a doctor without stirring up trouble. The Shimada goons from the coffee shop were ordered to take care of Marlene and the other men, erasing any trace the three of them had been there at all. 

Zarya managed to keep the blood out of the water and never mentioned Jesse’s name once. He was as hidden as he could be now.

“Father has my flight scheduled for tomorrow evening.” Hanzo’s reply is soft. 

Jesse nods, throat tight, “Yea. Sounds good.” He watches the butter sizzle around in the pan. Hates how fucking keyed up and emotional he is all of a sudden. 

“Jesse.” Hanzo murmurs, “Look at me.” 

Jesse sighs, turns his head to give the man his full attention. Hanzo is watching him, patient and sad. Jesse doesn’t let him speak, “You don’t need ta feel sorry for me, darlin’.” He grins, “Not the first time I’ve been broken up with.”

Hanzo makes an exasperated face, “Jesse, I have a duty to my family.”

Jesse grits his teeth, “Yea, well what about to yourself?” 

“Myself?” Hanzo looks taken aback, “This isn’t about me. I can not just-.” He waves his free hand around, “I can not just stay here and live my life out while I ignore my responsibilities.” 

“Well why not?” Jesse doesn't mean for it to come out angry, but it does and Hanzo jerks back at the tone.

“ _ Jesse _ -.” Hanzo growls.

Jesse flips the stove off, turns to face him fully, “Why the hell can’t you?” He points at Hanzo’s phone on the counter, “Why can’t you call him and tell him  _ no _ ? Why can’t you just  _ stay here with me _ . Get a stupid boring job and I’ll got to mine and we can come home and-.” His voice squeezes around the emotion, “And just-.” He rubs his hands down his face, closes his eyes, “Would it really be so bad to live like this with me?” 

He opens his eyes. Hanzo’s expression is twisted, pained. Different from the one he wore in the warehouse basement.

“I feel like my entire life has been this shitty mix of fool’s gold. Always perfect on the outside but just, just  _ fake _ and always bitin’ me in the ass.” Jesse is  _ not _ going to cry in his goddamn kitchen in front of the man of his dreams, but it’s a near thing, “And if I can do  _ one _ thing right, If I can get  _ one _ real thing outta life.” He puts his hands out, cups the sides of Hanzo’s face, “I want it to be you.” 

He swallows, puts himself out there one last time, “ _ Stay _ with me, Hanzo.”

Hanzo’s eyes are so brown staring up at Jesse. His cheek is still swollen and Jesse’s sure he didn’t get much sleep last night judging from the dark circles under his eyes. But he’s still so goddamn beautiful it makes Jesse’s chest hurt. 

“I have never been irresponsible in my life.” Hanzo’s voice is quiet, subdued. 

Jesse grins, presses their foreheads together, “Then be irresponsible with me, darlin’. If it doesn't work out. Japan ain’t goin’ anywhere.” 

Hanzo takes a deep breath, releases, “I have always wondered what it would be like to tell my father no.”

A laugh bursts from Jesse’s chest, he kisses Hanzo. It’s messy and kind of off kilter. Emotions are too high, but he doesn’t care. Hanzo’s good arm curls around the back of Jesse’s neck and he guides the kiss into something sweeter, more in sync. 

The door bursts open.

“I do not smell farewell pancakes.” Genji’s voice admonishes, a pause. Jesse frowns against Hanzo’s mouth, “Hanzo is not well enough for you to be jumping him already, Jesse.”

Hanzo heaves a sigh, moves away to scowl at his brother, “I am perfectly capable of knowing my limits.”

Genji snorts, “Right.” 

Zenyatta moves in behind him, smile on his face. “We can always go out for pancakes.” He suggests mildly.

“Nah.” Jesse waves a hand, flips the stove back on, “Just clearing the air.” He sets about making the cakes, listens as Hanzo and Genji and Zenyatta speak quietly behind him. 

“I am proud of you, brother.” Genji’s voice is wavering, emotional.

“Dearst.” Zenyatta laughs softly, “It is nothing to cry about.”

“Genji.” Hanzo sounds irritated, affectionate. 

“Father is going to be so mad. So pissed. Please record what he says to you.”

Jesse laughs. Flips a pancake. Whistles. 

“I smell pancakes.” Fareeha sing-songs, the thud of a bag, “And I brought my current couch potato.”

“That’s not funny.” Gabriel snaps.

“It kinda is.” Fareeha walks into the kitchen, Gabriel in tow. Jesse notes that he looks better. There’s life in Gabe’s face again, he’s had a shower and a hair cut. When he passes Jesse in the kitchen, he smells of aftershave instead of booze.

“Done in about five minutes.” Jesse calls out, “Genji. You’re on plate duty. Hanzo can’t do it.”

Genji does so happily, conversing with Fareeha and Gabriel, Zenyatta helping him set out plates and silverware. 

Hanzo pauses in the doorway, looks back at him, “Are you alright?”

“Yea.” Jesse nods, clears his throat and grabs the plate of stacked pancakes, “Couldn’t be better.” 

His table is loud and full of laughter. Hanzo sits on his right, soft smile on his face as he looks up at Jesse. 

He wouldn’t have it any other way. 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have reached the end, my friends. 
> 
> There will be an Epilogue. Worry not. 
> 
> I want to thank all of you who have followed this story to its end. I really enjoyed writing my first full fledged Mchanzo fic and I'm glad I was able to tell Jesse and Hanzo's story. The Epilogue will go a little more in depth into how they get where they are in In the language of flowers. 
> 
> Thank you for the comments, kudos, words of encouragement. You are all amazing.


	9. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone who took this ride with me. Who has been her since the first chapter and who has been with me since In the language of flowers. 
> 
> Your messages, your kudos, your comments. They fuel my motivation. They encourage me to write more and better myself with every chapter and every fic.
> 
> So thank you.
> 
>  
> 
> _Enjoy_

**Epilogue**

 

 

  
  


_ One month later… _

  
  


“Ya look fine.” Jesse sighs at Hanzo from the bathroom doorway. Hanzo shoots him a scowl, adjusting the tie at his neck  _ again _ . When he looks back at the mirror, it finally falls into place properly and he is pleased. The suit isn’t out of the ordinary, he’s worn it many times before, but this time it is for legitimate business. 

“I can not just look ‘fine’, Jesse.” Hanzo mutters.

Jesse sidles up behind him, hands cupping Hanzo’s shoulders. He’s already dressed for work, Torb’s new uniforms now had the names etched into pockets. Hanzo remembers Jesse being very excited upon coming home, a bag full of plastic wrapped coveralls in his hands. It was no security gig, but Jesse was happy and Torb kept the lingering sniffers off their trail.

Torb, however, could not deter Hanzo’s father. 

His phone vibrates across the bathroom counter, not for the first time that morning. Or the first time in a month, in fact. 

“Should just answer it.” Jesse kisses his neck, “Or block it.”

Hanzo watches Jesse in the mirror, overgrown beard buried in Hanzo’s neck. He can smell the deodorant Jesse put on, the scent of the shampoo they shared. His eyes drift shut as he soaks in Jesse’s warmth. 

The phone starts vibrating again and Hanzo grunts, wraps his hand around it. Jesse moves away after nuzzling his cheek and disappears into the hallway. Hanzo stares at his father’s number, throat tight. 

He walks into the hallway, down into the living area. The phone continues to ring in his hand even as he stands near the couch and stares at it. He can hear Jesse warming up the coffee pot, digging around in the cabinets for the sugar. Probably a mug too. 

Answering the phone means breaking the peace he’s settle into. Only a month and living with Jesse is a great deal better than all his years in the luxury of his family compound. 

Hanzo takes a steadying breath, slides the bar across the screen, “Hanzo.”

“ _ Did you get lost?” _ His father’s voice is cold, hard and Hanzo feels thirteen again, shoulders slumped from a day out with his brother. 

“I missed my flight.” Hanzo keeps his voice steady. Jesse appears in the kitchen’s entrance, a cup of steaming liquid in hand. 

“ _ On purpose? _ ”

“Yes.” He replies, fingers tightening around the phone, “On purpose, father. I did not wish to come home.”

“ _ You are needed here. _ ” Sojiro hisses, “ _ You have a wedding, a duty. I will not be at the helm much longer.” _

Mention of his ‘wedding’ is enough to make Hanzo flinch. It is a harsh reminder that he has not cut ties with everything in his old life just yet.

“I am not nineteen any longer, father.” Hanzo clears his throat, “Genji and I are not children. Nor are we cattle.”

“ _ Excuse me? _ ”

“I am not coming home.” Hanzo can feel his hand trembling, every word is excruciating, “Neither is Genji, we are-.” He tries to think of a word, but can only come up with, “Done.” 

“ _ You do not make that choice. _ ” Sojiro snarls.

“I have come to realize,” Hanzo murmurs, lifting his eyes to meet Jesse’s, so brown and worried across from him, “That I make my own path and my own choices.” Jesse’s lips turn up into a smile, tentative and encouraging, Hanzo takes another breath, “Father, while I am grateful for your tutelage and your guidance, I have found another road in which I would rather travel.”

“ _ I am aware of the american man you are staying with.” _ Sojiro snaps, “ _ You are above such frivolousness, Hanzo. _ ”

He really isn’t. 

He has fallen so far into Jesse’s life, he doubts he would ever be able to climb out. Nor does he have the desire to.

“ _ You are not Genji _ .” His father reminds him and it is a slap. A harsh one. 

Hanzo was not allowed the leeway Genji received. Hanzo was a role model, a beacon, a guide for Genji to look up to. He was not allowed time to himself, time with anyone besides his instructors. Bred and groomed to stand in his father’s shadow until the day came where he would cast one of his own. 

“I will continue to stay with him.” Hanzo keeps his tone final, with no room for argument. “I will thrive here.”

“ _ No, you will fail. _ ” His father predicts, “ _ I will not welcome you home. No part of our family wealth or stature will be available to you.” _

Good, Hanzo thinks.

“Very well.”

“ _ You are dishonorable, Hanzo. You disappoint me. As always. _ ” The line goes dead, sharp and final. 

Hanzo lowers the device, closes his eyes and takes a shaky breath. He opens them when the smell of his favorite tea wafts close. Jesse is holding his mug, tea steeped and judging by the coloration of the water, steeped properly. 

Emotion clogs his throat once more as he takes it between his hands. One of Jesse’s arms wraps around his shoulders, pulls him just close enough to press a nosey kiss at Hanzo’s temple.

“You did good, darlin’.”

Hanzo hums softly, takes a slow, careful sip of his hot beverage. The taste relaxes him, the heat eases his tense posture. Jesse continues to pepper kisses along his hairline, mutters ridiculous nicknames and eventually reaches Hanzo’s mouth. This kiss tastes of coffee and burnt toast, Jesse sighs into it and a shiver rolls through Hanzo at the sound of it. 

Jesse parts slowly, eyes tender as one of his thumbs strokes Hanzo’s cheek, “Git to your interview, Hanzo. Knock ‘em dead.”

They part ways fifteen minutes later, mugs left in the sink. Jesse takes the bike to work after reeling Hanzo into another kiss. Hanzo waves to Fareeha in the lobby, who is coming in from her night shift, dark circles under her eyes, but wearing a grin nonetheless.

“You’re still here.” She sounds relieved.

“I do not plan to leave.” Hanzo replies. 

She pats his shoulder as she passes, “That’s good. That’s really good. Nighty night, Hanzo.” He watches her trudge up the staircase before heading to the bus stop.

  
  
  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  


“How is your young man doing?” Torb asks, handing Jesse his paycheck. 

Jesse takes it with a suspicious air, peers down at it before looking down at Torb, “Fine. Why?”

Torb releases a grunt, “He’s got an interview today, right?”

Jesse perks at that, “Yea, he sure does.” The grin spreads across his face before he can stop it, “Turns out, Hanzo’s been to really good schools and his skill sets are pretty savvy.” He waves the check around, “He put his resume out a week ago and had four different interviews within the first few days.”

“Good fer him.” Torb nods, “You thinkin’ about heading back into Amari’s fold?”

Jesse shrugs a shoulder, sets his check into his little cubby area, “Thought about it a few times.” He grabs a ticket and a set of keys, “Ana put Gabe up for a job, kinda low level right now till he can get his feet back under him and ya know, clear out the drinkin’ problem.”

He had thought about going back. Reapplying. 

Jesse looks over at Zarya, conversing happily with a small woman and explaining the deal with her car. Mako is welding a wheel hub back together. 

“I thought about it.” He repeats, “Might do it someday, but fer now, best wait till Hanzo is all settled, yea?”

Torb nods thoughtfully, pats Jesse’s back and heads into his office. 

Jesse sets about work, a bit of a pep to his step. 

It takes him two hours on the first car, the rest of his work day on the second. Zarya comes in and out of his zone, asking him about Hanzo, making sure no one’s been bothering the two of them. 

“Only his dad.” Jesse shrugs a shoulder, fits a wrench around one of the alternator bolts. 

Zarya sighs, “He  _ is _ the heir to an entire criminal empire.” 

“Yea.” Jesse frowns, “But if he wants to live a boring life with me here, then he should get to do that.” 

“Of course.” Zarya mutters, “But he must face the consequences.” 

Jesse stares down into the engine. Zarya walks away, greets another customer. 

Jesse heads home an hour later. 

He takes his time getting home, takes a few of the backroads to his apartment. The convenient store isn’t overly packed with the after work crowd, so he stops there first to pick up a few things. Newspaper for Hanzo, just in case he didn’t get the job. A case of beer for himself, a burrito from the cooler. He grabs another one for Hanzo.

By the time he parks his bike and enters through the front doors, Gabriel is at his mail box. The other man looks up from the fist full of mail in his hands and grins at Jesse.

Jesse can’t help but grin back. Gabe’s face is clearer, the dark circles under his eyes are still there, lack of sleep no doubt. Jesse doesn’t think he’ll be getting much of that until he faces his other problem, but, baby steps. He doesn’t reek of booze when Jesse strolls up to his own mailbox. 

“How’s the new job?” Jesse asks.

Gabriel’s grin doesn’t falter, but he does go back to browsing his mail, “So far so good. Amari knows how to work a man.”

Jesse chuckles, unlocks his box and pulls out his own mail, “That she does. I’m sure you’ll get tha hang of it.” 

Gabe’s quiet for a moment, Jesse spots a postcard from Genji.

“You going to come back?” Gabe inquires. 

Jesse releases a sigh, “I dunno yet. I want to, but with Hanzo not havin’ a job yet, better to wait it out.”

Gabe nods slowly, “Just don’t feel like you aren’t welcome back.” 

Jesse nudges his shoulder, shoots him a wide grin, “Think you could work with me, Reyes?” 

Gabe scoffs, turns for the stairs. Jesse follows him up to their floor, chatting along the way. They go back and forth about what working for Amari entails, Jesse sharing some of his finer moments under her strict eye. He asks about Sombra, whom Gabe seems rather fond of, judging by the way he talks about her. 

He stops at his door, watches Gabriel continue on to his own apartment.

“Yer good?” Jesse clears his throat, hand wrapping around the handle of his apartment door. 

Gabe pauses and looks back over at him, gives a slight nod, “Yea.” He clears his throat, unlocks his door, “It’s not easy, but yea.” 

“It’s not gonna be easy, Gabe.” Jesse reminds him, “Just don’t give into it. That voice you hear that tells ya to take that drink?”

“Don’t listen to it.” Gabe’s smile is tentative, “Gottcha.” 

His door clicks quietly shut and Jesse takes a shuddering breath. Watching Gabe drink himself into an early grave was not on his list of things to do in the next year. And while he’s glad Gabe’s cleaning up his act, he’s still toeing the edge of a line, not gettin’ help for the PTSD, the nightmares, the lack of sleep. 

Anyone with a brain could tell Gabe was going through more than just his bottles. 

Jesse enters his own apartment and the first thing he smells is rice. The second is soy sauce, cooking peppers, butter. He inhales sharply, grin turning warm on his face as he drops his work duffle in the hall, sheds his coveralls. His clothes probably smell like sweat and grease, but he’s gotta greet Hanzo first. 

Hanzo is at the stove, hair down, dressed in his home clothes. His feet are bare and the sweatpants nearly swallow his ankles. The suit he wore to his interview is hanging off the back of the couch, rumpled. 

Jesse frowns.

“Did it go bad?” He eyes the suit, then Hanzo.

Hanzo turns from the stove, smile soft on his features, “It went as well as expected.” 

“Which means-?” Jesse steps into the kitchen, but Hanzo spins around fully and puts a hand on Jesse’s chest. His fingers curl into Jesse’s stained white shirt. Awareness skitters down his spine and Jesse licks his lips.

“It went well. I start the following monday.” Hanzo tips his head to the side, “Go shower.” 

Jesse whines, “But Hanzo, ‘m hungry.”

“And it is not done.” Hanzo puts pressure against Jesse’s chest, walks him backwards out of the kitchen, “Shower.”

Jesse sighs, slaps Hanzo’s hand away, “Fine. Fine. Bossy.” He frowns, “Not even a ‘welcome home’ kiss?”

Hanzo points to the hallway, “Shower.” 

Jesse heads for the bathroom, sheds his sweaty work clothes and drops them in the hamper Hanzo bought his second week in. The shower steams up the room soon enough and Jesse makes it quick, eager to taste what Hanzo made and find out how the interview went in more detail. 

Jesse’s surprised to see Hanzo in the bathroom when he slides the curtain across the rod. He pauses, naked and dripping onto the rug. Hanzo is holding his towel, a salacious grin on his face.

Jesse’s stomach hitches pleasantly, dick twitching between his legs. 

“Need somethin’ from me, darlin’?” Jesse murmurs, stepping into Hanzo’s space. 

Hanzo’s dark eyes drop down where Jesse knows he’s growing hard. The towel hangs from his hand in mid-air, fluffy and promising Jesse dry skin, but he ain’t so sure he wants it anymore. Jesse growls low in his chest and Hanzo’s eyes dart back up. 

“I received a job offer.” Hanzo murmurs, he drops the towel in front of the sink, “I wish to celebrate with you.” 

Jesse swallows back a choked moan and now he’s at a full salute, ready for action. Hanzo points at the towel, “Stand there. Hands on the counter.” 

Jesse gives a shaky salute, legs wobbling as he hurries to comply. He wraps his fingers around the edge of his sink, securing his forearms on the marble. Hanzo’s hands are cool against his skin, still hot from the shower. He groans, wants to drop his head, but he’s too busy watching Hanzo’s gaze as he spreads Jesse’s cheeks. 

A thumb brushes against his hole, slick with something that he hopes is lube. His legs tremble when the first finger slips inside, the stretch biting. Jesse hisses, teeth sinking into his bottom lip and keeps his gaze on the mirror. 

Hanzo’s tattooed hand curves up Jesse’s spine, curls in his hair, reminding him that he should probably cut it soon. 

A second finger slips inside and the hand in his hair yanks back sharply. Jesse gasps, head back, dick throbbing and he can  _ feel _ it leaking. His toes curl into the towel keeping his wet feet from slipping all over the tile floor. Another finger enters, then another. The hand pulls at his hair, sending tingles across his scalp.

“ _ Hell _ -.” Jesse pants, “Hanzo-.”

“My father wants me to give you up.” Hanzo’s voice is quiet, dark. The fingers in his ass retreat, slam back inside, the middle one brushing against his prostate. Jesse lets out a less than manly whimper, fingers white as he holds on to the counter. 

“Y-yer not, right?” Jesse swallows, meets Hanzo’s eyes in the mirror. 

Hanzo’s fingers slam inside again, spread apart, enhancing the stretch. His cock is oozing at this point, ass aching for something else. 

“Why would I give you up?” Hanzo asks, fingers slipping free, trailing down the back of Jesse’s thighs. They wrap around said thigh, lifting it to the right, spreading it out and his other hand pressing the tip of his dick against Jesse’s hole. 

“I’d beg ya not to.” Jesse says, fighting the urge to reach out for Hanzo. 

His back bows as Hanzo enters him, slow and sure, dark eyes locked with Jesse’s. The pressure steals the breath from Jesse’s lungs, but so does the way Hanzo looks at him. Like he’s never been more sure about a decision in his life. 

Like Jesse is  _ it _ for him.

His heart trembles. Hanzo slips his tattooed arm around Jesse’s waist, fist wrapping around his cock. He slams inside once, twice. Jesse whines, lip stinging from how hard he’s biting down into it. 

“I’m afraid-.” Hanzo huffs, mouthing along Jesse’s back, hips pounding against his ass, “That you are stuck with me, Jesse McCree.”

Jesse’s not going to make it. The orgasm is sharp at the tip of his cock, begging to escape, but Hanzo’s hand isn’t moving. It holds the base, tight and firm. Making Jesse wait for it. 

Jesse’s eyes flutter closed, the thrusts pick up pace, the burn bleeding into pleasure. It’s almost numbing. Hanzo breathes soft words into the skin of his spine, words Jesse can’t understand. He doesn’t need to. 

“Till death do us part?” Jesse asks, cracking his eyes open. 

Hanzo chuckles, breathless, hips surging. His hand gives a sharp twist up to the tip of Jesse’s cock and he explodes against the counter doors. He shouts, body convulsing painfully, babbling at Hanzo ‘so good’ ‘so perfect’ ‘keep goin’ darlin’. Hanzo fucks him through it, his cock still hard and oversensitive from the gut wrenching waves. 

Hanzo’s teeth sink into Jesse’s skin, hips frantic now. Jesse isn’t sure he can come again, but that doesn’t stop the hot flare curled deep in his belly. He slams his fist into the counter, begs Hanzo to go faster. 

Hanzo complies, hand gliding over the sensitive tip of his dick. Jesse snarls, stomach clenching and dick twitching uselessly as the tip of Hanzo’s dick strikes his prostate. 

“Come on Hanzo.” Jesse grits his teeth, thighs burning, another orgasm barreling forward, “Come fer me, sugar.” 

Hanzo gasps hotly against Jesse’s back, the last thrust colliding violently with Jesse’s ass, sending them both careening into dual orgasms. Jesse’s forehead slams into the mirror, cock too sensitive, oragasm dry, sweaty hands scrambling against the counter. 

He collapses into the hard surface of his sink, any energy he had left depleted with the second orgasm. Hanzo’s laugh is soft, wet kisses spread across Jesse’s back as he pulls out, the sound wet and slick. 

“Goddamn.” Jesse breathes out his own laugh, “‘M about to eat the ground, darlin’.”

Hanzo’s arms come around him, holding him steady, his right leg is lowered once more, “Yes.” 

Jesse frowns, drowsy from the tidal wave of emotion, “Huh?” He looks over his shoulder, watches Hanzo press his cheek against Jesse’s sweaty back. His face is lax, eyes clouded with his own pleasure, a smile at the corner of his mouth. 

Jesse’s heart clenches at the sight. 

“Yes.” Hanzo repeats, “Till death do us part.” 

  
  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  


_ Three years later _

  
  
  


The apartment is bustling with noise when Hanzo slips in from the morning farmers market. It is unusual to have people in their apartment so early. He drops the bags onto the kitchen counter and it smells of coffee, tea-

Hanzo hurries into the living room, body relaxing when he spots Genji and Zenyatta seated on their second couch. 

They had to get another one. With Sunday mornings as full as they usually are with the addition of Jack and Angela and Lena. 

Jesse is leaning back into his couch, arm slung over the back and hair tied back in a little ponytail at the base of his skull. He’s wearing one of Hanzo’s shirts, pj clad legs crossed over the coffee table's surface. 

Genji’s face lights up when he spots Hanzo, “Brother! You are back.”

Hanzo gives a short wave, “Hello. I was not aware you were visiting.” He frowns, “Again.” 

“We are not here long.” Zenyatta assures, “I have only a short break before I must return to my duties.”

“It’ll be a while longer before we can visit again.” Genji explains, “So we wanted to drop in before he is sequestered indefinitely.” 

Zenyatta sighs fondly, curls his fingers around Genji’s knee, “Dearest, it won’t be that bad.”

Genji shrugs, his own frown marring his features, “Says you.” His voice is grudging, but relenting, so different from the boy Hanzo grew up with. 

Jesse rises from the sofa, curls an arm around Hanzo’s waits and kisses his neck, “Get all the fixin’s?” 

Hanzo nods, offers his neck and relaxes into the hold. He has been working late at his office, barely able to crawl into bed before he’s passed out on at Jesse’s side. 

Having Jesse so close after a busy week of late nights and next to no contact, is thrilling. Just as thrilling as it’s always been. 

The kisses trail up to his jaw, “Ya’ll catch up, I’ll start the pancakes. Let Jack and Gabe know?” 

Hanzo nods, waits until Jesse disappears into the kitchen and he can hear the bags wrestling before taking a seat on the couch. 

Genji’s frown melts away into a nervous grin, “Father contacted me through letter recently.”

“Oh?” Hanzo has not heard from their father in months. 

“I was not expecting him to apologize.” Genji twiddles his thumbs, “Has he-.”

Hanzo’s eyes drop to the floor, chest tight. He did not expect his father to ever forgive him. Judging by the men that still corner Hanzo on the street, begging him to return, he doubts it will ever happen. 

One of Zenyatta’s hands reach out and settle on Hanzo’s forearm, “You are happy?”

Hanzo startles at that, looks up at him incredulously, “Of course I am.”

“Then his opinion does not matter.” 

“He always favored you.” Hanzo sighs, “It is no surprise he would reach out to you first.”

“It is still insulting.” Genji shifts his shoulder irritably, “That he would tell me that he is ‘supportive’ and ‘happy I have found my path’, but that he completely ignores your own desires.” 

“Father has always been that way.” Hanzo says quietly, giving Genji a sad smile, “You just could not see it.”

Genji sighs, “And I am sorry, Hanzo. For my blindness.”

Hanzo shakes his head, “You need not apologize, little brother. We are long past that.”

“Why are we having pancakes on a saturday?” Gabriel’s voice is a low grumble as the front door opens behind them. 

“Stop complaining.” Jack snaps, “You’ve been whining about food for an hour, but refused to get out of bed.” 

“Yea, cuz you’re making me work today.” Gabe complains, dropping onto the sofa beside Hanzo. 

“You volunteered!” Jack exclaims.

“Hon?” Jesse calls out, “Little help in here.” 

Hanzo stands up swiftly, offers his seat to Jack, who settles in with a wide grin. They’re both dressed in Jack’s shop t-shirts. They continue to bicker, before finally greeting Genji and Zenyatta as Hanzo steps into the kitchen. 

Jesse is watching a pan of frying bacon, a griddle with pancakes, and whisking another bowl of batter. 

Hanzo’s heart shivers at the sight, taking it in like a breath of fresh air. To hell with his father and the forgiveness he still craves. He does not need a letter or a phone call to validate what he feels for Jesse and he certainly doesn't need  _ permission _ to be happy from his own father. 

“Can ya stir this while I fix me a cup ‘o coffee hon?” Jesse gives him the ‘puppy eyes’ and Hanzo puts his hands out for the bowl. 

Jesse smiles and passes it over, beelining for the mug sitting beside the coffee pot. Hanzo stirs quietly, checks on the food cooking before him. 

There is a peace in the sounds of Jesse adding sugar to his coffee and their friends chatting happily in the other room. He stirs steadily, thinks of the quiet that will befall him later, once everyone has gone their separate ways for the day and it is just Jesse and himself. 

“Jesse?” Hanzo looks away from the food, watches Jesse as he slides the mug across the counter where the creamer is.

Jesse doesn't look up, but there’s a smile on his face, “Yea, darlin’?” 

“Marry me.” 

The creamer falls into the mug, coffee overflowing the edges as Jesse chokes out a sound. He stares over at Hanzo in disbelief, mouth open.

“ _ W-what _ ?” 

Hanzo sets the bowl on the counter, walks up to Jesse’s side, determined, “Marry me.” 

Jesse’s hands are shaking as they rise to Hanzo’s face, thumbs brushing against his cheeks. His mouth is opening and closing minutely, words lost. Hanzo’s heart is in his throat. 

“I’m not gonna ask if yer sure.” Jesse whispers, voice hoarse and wrecked, “I’m just gonna say yes.” 

Hanzo kisses him, hard. His own hands lift to curl in Jesse’s hair, head tipping to the side so that he may deepen the kiss. Jesse makes a sound like a sob against Hanzo’s mouth, hands clutching, tight and heart racing when their chests press together. 

When they break apart, Genji is standing in the doorway. 

“You will burn our pancakes.” He pouts. 

Jesse laughs against Hanzo’s cheek, and the flush across his nose is lovely. Hanzo just wants to drag him into their room for the remainder of the day.

But-

First things first.

Jesse returns to the stove, Hanzo follows Genji back into the living room.

An arm wraps around Hanzo’s neck and he stumbles under his brother’s weight. 

“Hanzo proposed!” Genji shouts.

“Genji!” Hanzo hisses. 

Jack twists around on the sofa, “ _ Really _ ?” 

Gabriel lets out a bark of a laugh, wiggles his fingers, palm up at Jack, “You owe me ten bucks.” Jack frowns at him, eyebrows lowered into a scowl. He slaps at the hand. 

“That is wonderful news.” Zenyatta exclaims. 

“Pancakes in ten!” Jesse shouts.

  
  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

  
  


It is much later in the day when Jesse brings up Hanzo’s father. 

They’re curled up together on the sofa, a red serape draped over Hanzo’s back as he’s laid out on Jesse’s chest. A popcorn bowl sits on the table, a beer bottle on either side. The TV is playing a rerun of a show they watch on the regular, but Hanzo is too busy listening to the steady thump of Jesse’s heart. 

Everything is warm, lethargic. He’s on the edge of sleep and nearly ready to call it a night.

“Yer father won’t be too happy if we get hitched.” Jesse’s voice is quiet, subdued. So unlike his usual cocky tone. 

Hanzo blinks, lifts his head to look into Jesse’s face. He’s staring at the TV, but Hanzo remedies that by pressing two fingers to Jesse’s chin and turning his face. 

“It is not his choice.” Hanzo reminds him.

Jesse grins weakly, “Yea, but yer already supposed to be married to someone else by now and he’s already pissed that you-.” 

Hanzo moves the fingers over Jesse’s mouth, silencing him, “I want you.” His whispers, insist, “And  _ only _ you.” 

Jesse’s throat moves in a sharp swallow and those brown eyes water at the edges. Hanzo’s heart aches for the man under him. 

His fingers brush Jesse’s bottom lip, “You compared your life to fool’s gold once, a long time ago, when I chose to take this journey with you.” Jesse remains quiet, his hands low on Hanzo’s back, warm and weighty, “For me, I had been wandering for so long, so sure the path I was given was my only one.  And in the end, I found out it was merely beautiful on the outside. The inside was tainted, ugly.” He swallows down the emotion attempting to clog his throat, “But you, Jesse, are beautiful on the inside as well.”

Jesse kisses him, a soft moan melting against Hanzo’s lips. Hanzo sinks into it, body relaxing against Jesse’s happily.

He does not need his father’s blessing. Nor his approval. 

He only needs Jesse.

 

  
  


_ It took a thousand nights, being on my own, for me to find it was all fool’s gold- _

_ Without you. _

 

 

End

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have reached the real end. 
> 
> I'm a little teary-eyed as I write this because, man. All the support in the fandom is the reason why I've completed so many fics. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the journey as much as I have.
> 
> _Thank you._


End file.
